


Dean Winchester and the Boy From Hufflepuff

by thetreeswhisper



Series: Dean Winchester Goes to Hogwarts [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-09
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-18 07:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 40,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetreeswhisper/pseuds/thetreeswhisper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's 3rd year at Hogwarts is going A-O.K., but it gets a lot better when he meets Castiel.  Meanwhile, the ongoing war against the Demons (dark wizards) ratchets up Dean's curiosity for the outside world, as well as his frustration with it.  His dad isn't much help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean was doing magic at his desk again.  Just messing around, making things spin, float, whatever.  Just letting it happen.  Then he noticed the Hufflepuff boy, Castiel, staring at him.   _God_ , he was so stupid.  He knew he could get in trouble, but he thought no one was watching.  Dammit, and that kid must've thought Dean was so dumb, or worse _\- weird_. He'd have to be more careful.

~~~

They got paired up for a potions project.  Castiel's hands shook nervously and he kept fumbling things or averting his eyes.  Dean was pretty sure it was because the other boy thought he was so weird or not worth his effort.  Or maybe the boy thought Dean was such a poser douche that he wanted to mess things up for them on purpose.  His fellow student's hatred for him didn't need any more proof when Castiel packed up and raced out of the dungeons before Professor DuMort could even finish saying, "Class dismissed."

~~~

The other class they had together was Care of Magical Creatures.  Professor Singer was Castiel's father, so the kid was raised around the subject.  That meant he got to help out, walk up to individual students and give pointers.  He was so confident...  _smug_ , really.  One day, the kid  _dared_  to come assist Dean with a rather bitey bowtruckle, but he acted all nervous again, like Dean was some kind of scary freak.

"It helps if you--"

"I got this," Dean interrupted.  He held out the pouch of fairy eggs and tried to lure the creature away from the tree it was protecting.  Professor Singer had hung tags that they were supposed to fetch, which they could only do if the bowtruckle was distracted.

But Dean's plan really wasn't working.  Castiel tried again, "Try spreading some of the bait on the ground and it'll--"

"Do I look like some kinda loser?" he challenged.  He stood up straight and imposed himself over the dark-haired boy, giving him every sign to back off.

Finally, he slumped away like a forlorn kitten.  Dean had to use all his stubbornness not to feel bad about it.

Unfortunately, that was when the bark-creature jumped on him and bit him in the leg.  Going to the hospital wing for a patch-up that day was the worst humiliation, and he couldn't even look in Castiel's general direction.

~~~

Dean was confused.  He didn't understand why this boy made him so angry.  Every time he saw him, his face burned up and he felt like punching someone, but he didn't know why.  He found himself staring sometimes, like the time when Castiel was sitting and reading at his house's table, right next to one of the Christmas trees along the sides of the Great Hall.  It was between meals, so there were only a handful of students using the hall as a study spot.  Dean was a little ways down at his own table, but he could see the lights of the tree on the side of the boy's face, creating a contrast of glow and shadow that matured his looks quite a bit.  Dean didn't know why that struck him so, the mystery of Castiel's features, how his shockingly blue eyes were so focused on the pages of his Transfiguration textbook... But suddenly the young man looked up and those eyes were pointed right at  _Dean_.  There was that burning feeling again and the desire to flee from that judging gaze, so he picked up his bag and hightailed it out to the entrance hall.

~~~

Now Dean was on the Quidditch pitch, practicing for try-outs on the crappiest broom he'd ever ridden, and wondering  _why the hell is_  he  _here?_ After dropping the quaffle the fifth time, he decided to take action.

Castiel was sitting in the stands reading a book, and he didn't look up when Dean flew over and dismounted with a thunk right next to him.  Typical, acting all distant and nonchalant.  It was odd, though, that his knuckles were turning white as they gripped the cover... probably 'cause the guy wanted to beat him up or something.  Hah, like Dean was gonna let himself get thrashed by some skinny thirteen-year-old.  Okay, so he was thirteen, too - what of it?  He could totally take on this jerk.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded.

 The Hufflepuff gulped.  "I was reading... because it's nice out, and... it's quieter over here."

"Don't lie! It's cold as balls, and you shouldn't be here!  I'm practicing, so get out!" Dean bellowed.  He really didn't know where this anger was coming from, or why shouting and letting it out didn't have the desired effect.  Instead of feeling triumphant, he felt foolish and flushed.

"Sorry," the boy mumbled as he stood and shuffled to the steps.  "I will leave."

Dean was confused enough already without adding this incongruence - he thought he'd put up a fight or yell back at least.  But complete surrender?  This was just weird.  Before his brain had a chance to veto the decision, his mouth called, "Wait!"

Castiel stopped a few feet away. 

"Uh, sorry.  For yelling.  I guess I, um, haven't been having a good practice."  He tried to give a weak smile, wondering why on Earth he was doing this.  Apologizing.

"I am sorry.  I wish you luck and improvement."

"Thanks," he replied instead of what could have been, "Are you saying I need improvement, huh punk?" or something of the sort... if his mind weren't in another galaxy.

The boy nodded and left, by which point Dean felt a strange pit in his stomach.  When at last he was alone on the field, he flew back down to the center of the pitch and decided it was a good idea to lie face-down in the dewy grass, limbs sprawled around him.

It had to be stress, he reasoned.  The third year did get much more academically demanding, so that was clearly the reason for all his weird behavior.  These off-kilter interactions with the Hufflepuff guy he barely knew, they just had to be an awkward side-effect of that stress.  No other explanation.

~~~

This was not the intended result of his somewhat friendliness.  The guy was  _stalking_  him.  He had a regular, solo practice schedule for Quidditch, and somehow Castiel always knew when to show up in the stands, reading a book as usual.  Dean could never quite be comfortable in that silent, spaced-out tension, but he had almost no room to switch his schedule around.  And based on how quickly Castiel figured it out the first time, no doubt a new routine wouldn't hold him at bay for very long.  Which was annoying because Dean  _needed_  to practice.  He wanted to be on the team so badly, and he knew that if he practiced regularly all year, he could have a chance.

There was also the frequency with which Dean now saw Castiel in the halls.  Between classes or meals, he would inevitably run into him or walk past him, no matter where he was in the castle.  That boy had to have some mean speed to do that as well as get to his own classes - the third year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors only had Potions and Care of Magical Creatures together, so the majority of the time he didn't have the excuse of already being there for a good reason.  He was just  _always_  there.

Thankfully, anger wasn't what Dean felt anymore.  Now it was more like embarrassment.  Each time the other boy was coming toward him, he felt his face go red and he would search for the first available detour.

In the first few days of this pattern, Jo pointed it out on their way to Defense Against the Dark Arts and asked him about it when they sat down for class.  "What's with you and that Hufflepuff guy?  You keep avoi--"

"It's nothing," he cut in, then smirked.  "I just owe him some money that I don't have yet."

"Why the hell would you owe money to some random guy?  And really Dean, he doesn't look like the gambling type."  Her raised eyebrow pierced through his lie.

"Okay fine, but... I think..."  He lowered his voice to a whisper and continued, "I think this guy is stalking me."

"What?"

"Shh! Seriously, I see him everywhere!  He doesn't try to hide or anything, he's just there  _all the time_."

"Ooh, looks like you have an admirer--"

"Stop, it's not funny!  He's a  _dude_  and he's  _stalking_  me!  Dontcha think you should be a little more worr--"

"Sorry to interrupt your  _gripping_  conversation, Winchester," a voice above them drawled, dripping with sarcasm.

Dean looked up at Professor Crowley's sneer and returned a cheeky grin.  "Apology accepted."

Crowley sighed and sauntered back up to the front of the class, where he had begun the lesson a moment ago.  "I'm being  _very_  lenient here:  _five_  points from Gryffindor.  It'll be another twenty, plus your soul, if you don't pay attention for the rest of my class."  Instead of glaring at Dean or trying any tactics, he went straight back to talking about categories and classifications of hexes with lazy gesticulations and intervening chalkboard scrawl.

~~~

"You have got to stop following me everywhere," Dean demanded the very next time he went to the Quidditch pitch.

Castiel was startled from his reading and stood abruptly and nervously.  "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so--"

"Come on, man!  You can't just stalk someone to make them be your friend--"

"No, it's not-- I'm sorry.  I had... I've been meaning to ask you something."

Dean threw his hands out exasperatedly.  "Well, what then?"

"It's, uh... is it hard to practice by yourself?" he asked cautiously.

"Huh?"   _What kind of question is that?_

"I mean, I also play a little bit too and I didn't know if perhaps it would help to have another player to practice with because I really want to try out."  It all came out in one breath, let out like a wave that had been building for days.

It took Dean a little while to process everything he said, and in that time Castiel's expression went from hope to despair.  Before a reply would come out of his mouth, the boy was mumbling, "It's okay, you're probably better off without me, so--"

"No, wait."  Dean stretched out a hand and placed it on his shoulder.  "Sorry, just took me a second to... anyway, yeah.  I mean, why didn't you just ask before?"

An unbelievably joyous smile planted itself on that face, and Castiel actually stepped forward and hugged him.  It kinda reminded Dean briefly of his little brother, Sam, who was still at home, not old enough for school yet.  The guy, despite all his shyness, took the unabashed approach and just wrapped his arms around Dean's shoulders like he was the world.

But how it differed from his brother's hugs was that it made him uncomfortable.  Dean's arms stayed stiff at his sides as the awkward boy squeezed around them for a bit longer than necessary.  When he broke the hug, he stepped back and stared at his feet, trying to hide the redness on his face.

"Alright." Dean clapped his hands together, shattering the unpleasant moment with as much force as he could.  "You be keeper."

~~~

"You're doing  _what?_  With a  _Hufflepuff?!_ "Ronald cried at dinner.

"Shh, keep it down!" Dean hissed.  He shoved a sautéed chunk of potato in his mouth and mumbled, "If weir', bu' 'e ashually doef help."

Jo was sitting next to him on the bench while Ron was leaning in from across the table.  Jo tilted away from Dean's gross eating habits and remarked, "You'll end up on opposing teams, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know," Dean managed to say with his mouth completely full.  "But dif if Hufflepuff we're talkin' abou', fo who care?"

"True, they'd never beat  _us_ ," Ron stated proudly.

She rolled her eyes dramatically toward the enchanted ceiling and sighed, but she had to concede, "I guess they're not the strongest team in the school--"

Ron cut in, "More like the weakest."

Dean was relieved the conversation was now about the Hufflepuff house, rather than him and Castiel specifically.  He didn't want to admit how talented and  _fast_  a flier the other boy was, or how much more he deserved to be on a Quidditch team than Dean.  The kid could probably save his house from placing at the bottom again.

However, on their way back to the common room, it was no surprise that Ronald brought the issue back up.  He was generally suspicious of everything, keeping tabs on every ghost in school so he could always find out what was going on, and he was convinced that Castiel was out to sabotage Dean and the Gryffindor team.

Dean shrugged.  "What's that thing Chuck's always saying... not to let differences between houses be a something boundary?"

"It's Headmaster Shurley," Jo corrected, "and yes.  We shouldn't let that stuff get in the way of making new friends from--"

"Woah, woah.  I'm not talking about being friends with this guy.  He's a total weirdo."

"Okay, Dean, whatever."  She put a hand on her hip with the last word, right as they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

Ron muttered the password as close to the painting's ear as he could get (he was suspicious that spies from other houses were hiding out and listening for the password so they could sneak in and steal everyone's socks), and the doorway opened up.  The warmth of the common room washed over them as they climbed through the portrait hole, as did the buzz of voices that were sleepy after a full meal.  Most students were studying in here because the crackling fire was particularly appreciated in February, and there wasn't much else to do.

Dean went up to his dormitory to quickly grab his books and come back down for a relaxed evening.  For once, homework was a welcome distraction.   If thinking about Castiel made him uncomfortable, then he would just have to  _not_  think about Castiel.

~~~

His back arched over the broomstick handle as he leaned even closer, going faster than Dean had ever dared before.  The quaffle was clutched in the crook of his arm as he swerved and tried to make it difficult for Castiel to know which post he'd go for.  The trick was all in deception, if he could just make the boy veer over a  _little_  to the right and he timed it just right...

The blue eyes were staring him down, and he would have recoiled if he weren't flying at forty miles per hour.  It was time to shine, so he went for the right side, looking determined, drawing Castiel that way.  When he was just meters away, he yanked the handle to the left and swerved toward the other side hoop, sending the ball soaring through the golden ring before the other boy could change direction.

Dean hollered, "Woo-hoo!" then finished the arc of his swerve, fetched the quaffle, and came back around to face a smiling Castiel.

"Well done, Dean," the boy praised.

He shrugged.  "It was nothin'."

Castiel nodded seriously.  "I think you will do very well on the Gryffindor team."

Dean had to grin back at that.  "I certainly hope so.  Hey, you never said what position  _you_  wanted to play."  It was phrased like a statement but spoken like a question, marked by a gentle, mid-air shove from Dean to Castiel.

The boy stared at the lettering on the handle of his broom.  "I don't believe the team is looking for one--"

"One what?"

His voice got even softer as he answered, "See...r."

"What was that?"

"Seeker."

"Hey, cool," Dean responded.  "You'd be pretty good at that."  And it was true, Castiel had the skinny figure and speed for it.  He'd make a  _damn_  good seeker, and the selfish part of him wanted the kid to flake at try-outs so that they didn't risk Hufflepuff taking over Hogwarts Quidditch history.

At Dean's comment, the other boy's shoulders squared up a bit and his smile grew.  "Could we practice that now?"

"Huh? Uh, yeah," Dean consented, mentally slapping himself for his inarticulate reply.  "I  _think_  there are practice snitches in the shed."

Castiel nodded enthusiastically and led the way to the ground, diving faster than Dean was comfortable keeping up with.  When he reached the shed, he had already found the box full of snitch-sized balls made of wood and painted gold.  Dean took the box and held it under his arm as they ascended again, making it easy to reach in and pull out the first ball.

The seeker-to-be nodded that he was ready, and Dean threw the first pretend-snitch toward the other end of the pitch.  It arched in the air and Castiel sped after it, catching it within seconds.  He tried to send the second one farther, but the results were similar; the directional curve was too predictable, and Castiel was too fast.  After five minutes without a single miss, Dean stopped tossing snitches and pointed out this fact.

"Dude, this is way too easy for you."

The Hufflepuff blushed and muttered, "Thanks."

"You know, I could... It wouldn't be that hard to enchant these things to fly around and make 'em harder to catch," he offered.  Dean wasn't well-known for academic success, but it was his little secret that he excelled in Charms.

The boy's eyes went wide as he wondered aloud, "You could do that?"

"Yeah, just give me a sec..."  Dean had to fly to the stands where his robe was discarded (despite the chill) to fetch his wand.  It was another cold, cloudy, but rainless day, like many they'd had lately.  It was the calm before the storm, however, as the downpour of Spring would begin shortly.

Armed and ready, Dean picked one ball out of the box, re-mounted his broom, and hovered with his wand pointed at the psuedo-snitch.  He muttered an incantation and flicked with his wrist, causing the ball to rise in the air and go darting about inside the pitch.  It was probably slower and less agile than a real snitch, but it did basically the same thing.  Castiel's eyes followed it for a moment, then he started to chase.

The randomly changing paths made him veer in the wrong direction a couple times, but soon he found a way to control the broom better, eventually making turns and stops more sharply than Dean's charmed snitch.  Dean wondered how he managed that with a school broom, and watched in awe each time he almost caught up with the ball, stretching out his grasping hand before the thing went soaring some other angle.  Then it would be lost momentarily, until Castiel's searching eyes found it and the pattern started again.  The boy caught the ball after only eight minutes' darting across the field.

Now  _that_  was the biggest smile Dean had ever seen on him.  Castiel triumphantly descended with the golden sphere gripped tightly in his fist, holding it high.  First success is always a thrilling thing and Dean felt proud of him, as well as a little shocked.  Granted, this snitch wasn't up to par with the ones they used in actual games, but rarely did anyone ever catch it that quickly.

They landed together by the seats piled with their belongings.  Out of breath, Castiel extended the ball toward Dean, who undid the charm with another wand flick, then opened his hand.  They exchanged smiles, then Dean took the practice snitch and looked it over as though verifying it.  He nodded approvingly and put it back in Castiel's palm.

"That was  _awesome_ , man."  Dean truly was impressed.

"Thank you.  I am also pleased with my performance."  He sounded so calm, but looked so buoyant - Dean was confused by the dichotomy.

"Seriously, do you always talk like that?" he asked, unable to curb his curiosity.

That put a confused look on Castiel's face, and his head tilted to the side.  "Is it unusual?"

Dean shrugged, not wanting to be mean.  "Only a little.  It's kinda cool, actually."  He was surprised that he actually meant that.  The boy was definitely intriguing.

"Shall we head back to the castle?"

"Absolutely."

~~~

The owls came screeching through the high windows and flapping down to meet their owners below.  Dean noticed a huge snowy owl greet Castiel and relinquish a small envelope.  He didn't even realize he was staring until a peck on the hand reminded him that a brown barn owl had a delivery of his own.

It was a letter from Sam, which Dean ripped open enthusiastically.

_You're being stalked?  That's hilarious._

_I discovered that if you mix ice cream with blueberries and peanut butter you get the best dessert ever.  You need to try it.  Pastor Jim liked it, too.  Speaking of him, he's making me play this really difficult Clementi sonata, but my hands are too small and I can't play all the big chords.  He says it's fine and it has the fast runs that I need to work on more.  Whatever._

_There's a new girl at church.  I think she likes me, but she's really tense all the time.  And her mother looks like a giraffe._

_Is there really a giant squid in the lake?  'Cause I don't believe you, and soon I have to go on one of those boats like you said your first year.  I don't want to go all that way just to be eaten by a monster.  So you'd better be lying about that squid._

_-Sam_

Dean laughed at each of his little brother's musings.  It had been 5 days since the last letter, and 4 days since he and Castiel began practicing Quidditch together, hence Sam being slightly behind on the news.  He got a piece of parchment, quill, and ink out of his school bag, shoving his plate of eggs and bacon aside to make room to write a reply.

_No longer being stalked.  Turns out castiel singer wants to try out too and were practicing together.  He's a better keeper than you, but he's crazy good at seeker.  You should seriously see this guy on a broom._

_You should stop eating so much ice cream Sammy it can give kid wizards this really awful disease that permanently turns your face pink.  Just giving you a heads up before you ruin your chances with the ladys._

_Tell pastor jim theres no way a midget like you could play that insane piano stuff.  And say hi while your at it._

Then Dean drew a stick-figure picture of Sam making out with a giraffe and the giant squid coming up behind them to eat him.  Or at least, that's what he tried to draw.  The gist of it was  _mostly_  discernible.  Then he signed his name, folded up the paper, addressed it to "Sammy boy," and tied it tightly with the string on the owl's leg.

When the bird was gone, he went back to eating his breakfast. Ron joined him late, looking flustered and wary.

"What's up?" Dean asked.

"I had to take a detour," he breathed, grabbing a biscuit and examining it. "There was a dubious-looking Slytherin standing in the hallway."

Dean shrugged.  This wasn't unusual.  He got himself a piece of toast while Ron smothered his biscuit in gravy; they ate quickly, taking last-second glances at their Transfiguration book before the quiz that morning.  When it was time to go to class, Dean wondered vaguely why Jo hadn't shown up, but he figured she would meet them there.

When they arrived, Jo was indeed standing up at the front, having a conversation that was apparently both exciting and frightening by the look on her pale face.  Her mother, who everyone else knew as Professor Harvelle, was smiling and resting a reassuring hand on the girl's shoulder.  She nodded toward the boys when they walked in and Jo turned around to look, but immediately blushed.

That was weird, Jo was the calmest, coolest, most collected person Dean knew.  Her, blushing?  Something was up.

She hesitantly took a seat by her friends who were looking at her like she was an alien that had replaced the real Jo overnight, but they said nothing. The questions for the test were being passed out, so they had other things to worry about.

He found himself recounting this strange event when he met Castiel to practice later that day.

"And she's been acting weird all day, like everything is embarrassing.  She's acting like such a  _girl_."

"Dean, she  _is_  a girl," the other boy pointed out.

"Yeah, well, not  _that_  much."  Dean threw his hands up in the air.  "She didn't used to be all crazy like the rest of them!  Seriously, they don't make any sense."

Castiel nodded gravely.  "I do agree there."

Dean barked a laugh and slung an arm over his shoulder.  "I tell ya, if they weren't such freaks, dating would be so much easier."

The boy tried to hide a smile, tilting his head down and away, but Dean saw it before he could escape.

"Dude!  You totally have a crush on someone!  Who is it?  Is it that Anna chick in Slytherin?"

"No!" he protested.

"Okay, fine," Dean acceded, taking his arm back and holding his hands up in an acquiescing gesture.  "Have it your way, Cas."

A curious look crossed the boy's face.  "No one has ever called me that before."

"Hm. Is it okay if I do?"

"Um... yes," he decided.

Dean's grin expanded.  "Awesome.  Cas it is."

"Shall we practice?" he suggested.

"Yeah!"  Then a funny side-thought came to him.  "And hey, whoever it is you got the hots for, chicks dig Quidditch players.  So  _when_  you make the team, not if, they will be all over you, man."

Cas' eyes shifted to the left and down, staring at the ground for a second, but then he brought them back up and smiled mischievously.  "Of course they will."  He flicked his hair as he turned around to pick up his broom. 

Dean laughed again, mounting his own broom and grabbing the quaffle.  He didn't know how or when, but he and Cas had become friends.

~~~

They had Charms with the Ravenclaws, some of whom liked to rub their academic prowess in the Gryffindors' faces.  Contrary to their belief, skill levels were very evenly spread across the group; Dean, for instance, was probably the best student in the class.  It said quite a lot that not even Jo and Ron knew this little fact.

Professor Daniels was very abiding, having caught on to his talent during his first year.  She started pressing him in class, hoping to accelerate his progress, but instead he started faking mistakes and mishaps.  With the onset of this poor performance, she spoke to him aside and discovered that he very much liked the subject, but didn't like showing off or letting other students know it.  She agreed to keep it secret, only calling on him for answers occasionally but giving him extra work to challenge him.  This meant he stayed an extra minute after class to grab his assignments from her, and his friends did at least notice his consistent straggling.

Dean was shoving the parchment into his book bag which was about to fall off his shoulder as he walked out of the room and into Jo and Ron, who had crossed arms and restless feet.

"Always, after Charms," Jo remarked, no need for elaboration.

"Yeah well, the book doesn't fit into my bag very well, and Daniels needs my help cleaning up all the feathers--"

"And?"

"And that's why it takes me a minute--"  He dropped the bag.  Its contents spilled and he bent to clean it up, his friends also stooping to help him.

Jo handed him an inkwell that had mercifully stayed closed and unbroken.  "You so have a crush on our teacher.  Just admit it."

"No way!  That's not why I--"

"This is the only subject where you do all the homework, and come to every class.  Knowing you, the only possible explanation is you totally like her."

He finished buckling the strap on the front of his messenger bag, then pointed a defensive finger in her face.  "That is so wrong."

" _Sure_ , Dean," she leered.

"Guys, we can't be late to Potions.  DuMort could make us the test subjects for everyone's projects!" Ron whispered.

"Right, let's go," Dean concurred hastily.  He straightened up and led the way down the hall.  Plus, getting to Potions wasn't such a bad idea... Cas was there.

Jo laughed as they set off walking, and Dean permitted a little self-deprecating chuckle himself.

"Of course, if you  _did_  have a thing for Professor Daniels,  _I_  wouldn't tease you one bit.  I would be very supportive and find ways of getting you alone together.  And send her Valentines for you."

"Aw, you'd do that? For  _me?_ How did I get so lucky to have a friend like you, Jo?"

"Oh, you know, I just like to help the needy."  She tossed her head back with mock conceit then flashed a wicked grin.

Dean rolled his eyes as he pushed aside a curtain that took them on a shortcut toward the entrance hall.  They soon got down to the dungeon and wormed into the back of the class just in time.  Only a couple other students turned around and took notice, one of them being Castiel, who smiled upon sighting Dean.  He replied with an upward nod of casual acknowledgment.

Jo glanced sideways at Dean, then over at Castiel, then back at Dean.  She was staring at Dean skeptically, to which he shrugged and mouthed, "What?"  She shook her head and returned her attention to the instructions being given.

"Today you will be in pairs," the thin-faced professor disclosed, seeming more concerned with the vials he was laying out in front of him on the desk, "one person brewing the sleeping drought while the other makes the antidote.  Or you can work together on both, whichever you prefer.  I would like you to find a partner from the other house, please, as the Headmaster has informed me that this will improve your amiability toward one another."

Ron and Jo exchanged sickened glances that would have also been shared with Dean, but Castiel turned around again and met his eyes brightly.  Jo looked pointedly at Dean and murmured, "Not friends, huh?"

"Shut up," he retorted shiftily.

"I take back everything about Professor Daniels; it's  _that_  kid you've got your panties twisted over."

Dean felt his face heat up and he glared at Jo in disgust while she returned an amused expression.

Ron was the only one actually paying attention, and he elbowed Jo lightly to get her to notice the list of instructions that had appeared on the board, as well as the more in-depth explanation of sleeping droughts that they were receiving.  They took notes hastily, then were sent off to find themselves the least revolting cauldron-buddy.

Obviously, Cas went straight for Dean and set his books down at the twin station on Dean's table, so he didn't have to move an inch.  Jo ended up a few tables away with Barnes, while Ron tried to copy Dean's tactic of staying still, waiting until the last Hufflepuff was without a partner and had to go over to the empty spot beside him.  Said student turned out to be a girl named Tessa, apparently Castiel's friend since she sighed with relief when she saw her destination was at the table beside his.  Ron too, was relieved that he had a partner who knew what she was doing.  She was Professor DuMort's daughter, though the only resemblance was their black hair.

It struck Dean how many professors had kids currently attending school in Dean's year.  Three?  Tessa, Cas, and Jo.  They could form a club.

Cas offered to get the fires started while Dean picked up all the necessary ingredients from the front table.  He came back and before he had the chance to dump everything, Cas took it and laid each item out carefully.  It went much better than the first time they were partnered, now there was no fumbling or stuttering.  His newfound friend was perfectly comfortable, easily taking the lead in reading the directions and giving instructions to Dean, even going as far as making conversation.  Tessa seemed annoyed that Castiel was too preoccupied to chat with _her_ , keep  _her_  entertained instead of basically doing the entire project herself, speaking only to tell Ron he was doing something wrong.

"These plants have a very strange appearance, don't they?"

"Hah, It's these funny leaf things, they're all... squiggly."

Cas giggled and repeated, as though feeling the word in his mouth, "Squiggly."

"Do I hear an echo?"

"Do I hear an echo?" the boy played along.

"Dammit, what did I start," Dean cursed, smiling.

"I believe it is a game you do not wish to continue..."

"No, I do  _not_.  My brother does that to me often enough, thanks."

Castiel turned an interested look on Dean.  "You have a brother?"

"Yeah, his name's Sammy.  He's gonna get to come to Hogwarts next year."  Dean couldn't possibly hide the excitement in his voice.

"That is wonderful!  Oh, we need to add the asphodel now."  Dean did so as Cas continued stirring. "It must be very nice to have a brother and family to grow up with."

The exact weight of his words had apparently not occurred to him before he said them aloud.

After a pause to let it sink in, Dean divulged, "Well, not exactly.  When I was four, my mom died, then my dad sent my brother and me to live with his friend Jim Murphy while he went off hunting down the wizard who killed her."

"Wow."

"Jim's a squib and we grew up in an all-muggle town, so Sammy and I pretty much just had each other."  Dean stared at his hands, playing with a root.  He didn't know why he was telling Cas all this.  It wasn't like he didn't have anybody else who knew - Jo and Ron were his best friends after all - but for some unknown reason, he really wanted this boy to know too.

Then it was Cas' turn to confide softly, "My mother also died, when I was six.  My father raised me on his own.  He is very kind."

Dean nodded slowly. Castiel was snapped out of his reverie a moment later when he realized he was turning the potion an orange-green color, when it was supposed to be gradually turning more and more purple.  He quickly glanced back at the book, tossed another ingredient in, and stirred the other direction.  It switched back to a slightly pinkish lavender color, on its way to dark purple.  They avoided the more serious conversation topics for the rest of the activity.

They were moderately successful, though potions was not the best subject for either of them.  The color of the sleeping drought hadn't turned out dark enough while the antidote wasn't a bright enough shade of yellow, but they had at least passed and not created something that exploded.

Jo and Ronald appeared at Dean's side, and Tessa attached herself to Cas, but neither of the two boys were inclined to part ways.  "You heading to lunch now?" Dean addressed both the Hufflepuffs.

"Yes," Cas answered.  Tessa shrugged.

"Wanna... go with us?" he invited, hoping his friends wouldn't hate him forever after this.  They looked surprised, but not angry, thankfully.

"Thank you, Dean, I would enjoy that very much."  Cas was smiling and speaking in that funny formal way he did, and Dean felt inexplicable cheerfulness wash over him.

"Awesome."

He and Castiel led the way up to the Great Hall, Jo and Tessa behind them, Ron taking the rear.  He didn't seem to mind - he could keep an eye on their tails to make sure they weren't being followed.

When they reached the top of the stairs leading from the dungeons, Dean overheard Jo venture, "So Tessa, hey.  We've never really talked, where're you from?"

That made Dean happy, too.  This was one of those moments when Dean was really glad he was friends with Jo, because she could be so apt at easing a situation.  Her intuition was quite handy.  Also, he knew how much she was supporting  _him_  right now, making an effort to get to know Cas' friend, opening up the possibility of expanding their group, and allowing Dean to interrupt their pattern.  He always knew, if only subconsciously, that keeping Castiel separate could only work for so long, and Jo was the best friend ever for understanding that.

"Hey, Cas."

"Yes?"  He beamed, clearly still enjoying the sensation of having a nickname.

Dean wasn't sure how to put it.  "There's a Hogsmeade trip coming up, yeah?"

"On the Saturday after next," he affirmed.

"Yeah, so... we should go.  Like, maybe this whole group?  It'd be fun to hang out a little."

He nodded.  "It would.  I agree this could be a very fun group, though perhaps we should consult all its members before planning events together."

Dean chuckled, recognizing the boy's humor by now.  At first it would seem unintentional because he kept such a straight face, but Dean soon realized that it usually wasn't the case.  Nothing about what he said just then was particularly humorous, but underneath the seriousness of his voice there had been a sarcastically derisive tone that Dean was beginning to catch onto.

They stopped at the doorway to the Great Hall, and were presented with a small dilemma.

Tessa braced herself. "Which tab--"

"Come over to Gryffindor's," Jo invited, "We have guests a lot, and we won't bite your heads off."

Dean was definitely proud of his friend for handling that.  Cas gave both Jo and Dean an appreciative smile, then they headed over to a large, empty section of the long table that lay in the second row from the right wall.  Cas sat on Dean's left, Tessa and Jo across from them.  Ron hadn't spoken yet, so Dean patted the seat to his right, trying to make him still feel welcome.

"What's up, homeboy?"

"You... you shouldn't try to speak other languages, Dean," he gibed.

And there it was, everything set right.  Five people, who by all logic don't fit together, sitting, eating, and laughing as a group.

~~~

_You seem kind of obsessed with Castiel.  Are you sure you're okay?  You didn't get a quaffle too hard to the head?  There aren't any weird lumps on your skin?  You're still actually breathing?  Just checking, you know._

_He seems really cool, Dean.  I can't wait to meet him.  And I will totally beat him at Quidditch, you wait and see._

Dean smiled and made to continue reading but a voice next to him asked, "What is that?"

"Oh hey, Cas!" Dean greeted effervescently when he looked up.  "Uh, it's a letter from Sam.  He thinks you're cool."  He smirked crookedly with his lips pursed to one side.

The boy somehow managed to bask in admiration without being cocky, and popped jocundly into the space next to Dean.  "It would be an honor and a pleasure to meet him, also."

"You should totally visit us this summer!"

He was about to make an excited reply, but his face fell.  "I do not know how that will be possible."

"Couldn't you just use some floo powder?  You could even just visit during the day--"

"My father might not allow it."

He didn't know why, but suddenly the thought of spending the summer months in a house with just Pastor Jim and Sam, not seeing Castiel even once, seemed much more painful than he expected.  Sending letters was always enough when it was Ron and Jo, but for some reason he felt the need to be near Cas.  With it was a fear that Cas would be lonely.

"Our dad makes sure Jim's house is really, really safe.  He's got shields and stuff on it so your dad wouldn't have to worry about a thing," he reassured.

"We shall see," Cas murmured, hands wringing in his lap.

"Well hey," Dean changed the topic, "we've got tomorrow to look forward to!"

At that his friend returned to his joyful self and replied fervently.  "I cannot wait."

"I've got a plan: first we hit Zonko's and stock up on dungbombs, then we go to Honeyduke's and just go crazy, and then we chillax at the Three Broomsticks.  And then we have a snowball fight," Dean relayed breathlessly.

Cas mused, "You are very entertaining when you speak."

He was taken aback by Cas' complete honesty, as had happened several times in the past two weeks.  He couldn't stop being surprised each time the boy said something forthright when it was least expected.  At least he was learning to recover faster, rather than standing there flapping his jaw silently for almost a minute.  "Duh, that's why they call me 'The Entertainer.'  I'm  _smooth_."  Dean flattened his hand, palm down, and stroked the air levelly to demonstrate this smoothness, and consequently knocked over a goblet of orange juice.

Cas snickered at him, and Dean laughed at himself so he didn't mind.

Then the Hufflepuff sighed and looked over at his table.  "I must return to my housemates in order to walk with them to class."

"You go ahead, Cas, I'll see ya later."  Dean patted him on the back before he wiggled off the bench, then grinned up winsomely when Cas was standing.  He smiled back earnestly, meeting Dean's eyes for a moment before walking away to the other side of the Great Hall.

Or that's what was going to happen.  Meeting was more like staring, and the moment lasted a good ten seconds before Dean's grin began to falter.  He blinked and decided it was probably smarter to look down at his breakfast, shaking himself out of the daze.  When next he checked, Cas was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

The morning couldn't go quickly enough for Dean.  They wouldn't leave for Hogsmeade with the other students until eleven o'clock, but that felt ages away when he woke up at six forty-three, full of energy.  He tried to snap himself out of it, telling himself that it was just a normal trip to Hogsmeade like the others he'd been attending all year, and this wasn't like a Quidditch game or a rock concert... nothing to get all excited about.  But his giddiness would not abate.

After lying wide-eyed in bed trying to make himself sleep in for at least an hour, Dean couldn't stand it any longer.  He got up, showered, and got dressed before it even hit eight.  He was sure his friends would rest as long as possible - until ten, most likely - so he tried not to wake up the entire dormitory with his moving about; however, he managed to knock over a stack of books when he tried to get into his trunk, and the boys in the four-posters around him all groaned or turned over or both.  It would probably be the respectful thing to leave the room and stop making such a disturbance.

But what was there to do?  He could go get breakfast by himself, walk around the castle, have an unscheduled Quidditch practice... well, he should have Cas for that.  It didn't seem right, practicing without him.  After grabbing a piece of toast from the Great Hall, he pulled his cloak around his shoulders and went out onto the grounds for a stroll.

The stones of the courtyard were shining with last night's rain - Dean knew there wouldn't be snow, now that it was March - and a thin layer of cloud above made the sunlight dissipated and pale.  He headed toward the muddy grass between the castle and the forest, sighting the gamekeeper's cabin ahead.  Rufus Turner didn't like to be bothered, so Dean kept it at a distance and veered behind the greenhouses.  They weren't interesting enough, though, so he turned and started walking along the edge of the forest, in the direction of the cabin again.  That was how he saw the front door open and Professor Singer step out.

Their voices barely carried as far as Dean so he couldn't understand them, but Turner and Singer patted backs in the doorway and parted ways, door creaking shut behind them.  He froze, not sure what to do if he was seen or what the professor would think.  A suspicious boy wandering by the forest early in the morning?  Well, early for a Saturday.  Still, kind of conspicuous.

Naturally, he was spotted before Singer even reached the main path back to the front doors.

"Winchester?" he called, surprised.

"Morning," Dean replied weakly, quickly waving hello with a shaky hand.

"What're you doin' out here, boy?"

Oh God, the professor was stalking toward him.  Would he get in trouble for this?  Nothing in the rules said it wasn't allowed... it wasn't after hours...  He gulped.  "Taking a walk."

"Uh, right.  Right by the Forbidden Forest, of course.  That's normal."  The unveiled sarcasm was piercing.

"No! I wasn't-- that's just... uh, see I couldn't go back to sleep so I--"

He halted mid-speech when Singer raised a hand.  "Yeah, yeah.  I'll let it slide, but you're walkin' back with me."

"Yes, sir," Dean obeyed.

The silence was heavy and awkward and lasted all the way back to the castle.  As the bearded man had been leading the way, he opened the door for Dean and gestured him through first.

"Dean!" a voice cried, and his heart leapt.

He jerked his gaze up from his toes to see Cas racing toward him from the bottom of the staircase but trying to be careful with his owl perched on his arm.  He had known it was him, by the voice.  And thank the Lord because Cas was here to save him!

"You friends with this boy, Castiel?"  The man's voice behind him was perplexed.

Dean had almost forgotten that Professor Singer was his friend's father since they were so completely different.  Hell, they practically spoke different languages.

"Yes, father, this is Dean."  Cas smiled widely at him on his approach, but landed by his dad's side.  "I have brought Hedwig.  Her strength has improved, but the cold is persisting."

"Good work son, I'll have her up an' runnin' in no time."  He bent down and held out his forearm so the owl complacently shifted over from Cas', then he straightened up and gave his boy's hair a gentle ruffle.

Cas beamed up at him.  "Thank you, father.  I pray you have a very nice day."

Singer's smile was a little more pained and he sighed, "You too, Castiel."  He looked back at Dean and gave a curt nod.  "I'll see you in class, Winchester."  With that, he walked back out the large, oak doors.

"Well, that was... awkward," Dean remarked.

Cas tilted his head to one side, a gesture Dean was becoming familiar with, especially after Dean spoke.  The boy inquired, "How did you chance to meet?" 

"I was bored, so I took a walk, but then I ran into him outside Turner's cabin and he made me walk back in with him.  He thought I was, like, sneaking into the forest or something," he elaborated.

Cas furrowed his eyebrows, so Dean prepared himself to have to explain more, but instead he was hit with a question that seemed rather random.  "Do you often wake early on Saturdays?"

"NO," came Dean's immediate reply.  "No, no, definitely not.  This morning, I just... uh, I couldn't sleep."

"I see.  Shall we go to breakfast?"

"Yes  _please_."

They passed through the second biggest set of doors in the entrance hall and sat down at the Gryffindor table, as usual.  At this rate, Cas would become an honorary member.

Hardly anyone was there.  It was still half 'til nine, so only the naturally early risers were up and about, and not all of them were in the Great Hall.  That meant a total of eight students were sitting at the four tables.  Dean was the only Gryffindor in sight, while two sixth-year Hufflepuffs were talking quietly, three Ravenclaws were huddled around some kind of puzzle, and a lone red-headed Slytherin was poring over a huge, leather-bound book with yellowed pages.  Dean recognized her as Anna Milton, the only student in her house that never showed off, as far as he was aware.

After this glance around the room, he turned his attention back to Cas and the food in front of him.  He'd had a piece of toast some twenty minutes ago, but there was plenty room in his stomach for a stack of four pancakes and six pieces of bacon, which he ate ravenously on principle.  Cas ate neatly and quietly, unlike any other boy Dean had ever known.  It was just one more thing that made him different.  And that was cool.

"Yes?"

Cas' eyebrows were raised, and with a quick intake of breath Dean realized he'd been staring.  Goddammit, he didn't mean to do that so often, but he blamed it on the boy for staring at  _him_  to begin with, and for being so weird... and stare-able.  Most people made you feel embarrassed about it, but looking at Cas was like analysing a piece of art; every once in a while a new fascinating detail could be discovered that wasn't noticeable before.

As soon as he had that thought, the part of his brain that told him what society expects of him buried it and commanded him never to let it out again.  That was just the wrong way to think about a guy.

Cas smiled nervously, seeing as Dean  _still_  had his eyes glued on his face, tongue also tied.  "Dean?"

That  _finally_  shook him out of the trance and he ripped his gaze down to his fork, suspended for the last minute or so.  "Uh, sorry," he muttered before shoving pancake into his mouth to prevent it from spouting more stupidity.

After two more bites he risked a glance upward, finding a warm smile on Cas' face.

"Um, hey Castiel."

Their heads snapped up toward a couple of sheepish Hufflepuffs in their year.  Dean realized that meant they shared a dorm with Cas, which shouldn't have surprised him as much as it did.

"Hello, Barnes," Cas replied amiably to the one who spoke.  "Hello, Demian."

Dean gave each of them a quick nod.  "Hey."

"You're Dean, right?" the shorter, broader one asked.

"Yeah, I am."

"Uh, nice to meet you."  He pulled his face into a quick smile that seemed more like a grimace, then turned toward Cas.

The tall, skinny one, Barnes, took a deep breath.  "So Castiel, are you still comin' to play Expansion tonight?"

"Of course."  His nod was more like a gentlemanly bow of the head and he continued cordially, "I look forward to it."

Barnes exhaled and relaxed his shoulders visibly, as though anybody could expect Cas to say otherwise.  "Okay, great. Cool, see you then."  He flashed Cas a bashful grin then led his friend away to the Hufflepuff table to get some food.

Dean peeked over his shoulder to see when they were seated, then turned back and snorted with laughter.  He tried to keep himself quiet since he meant those guys no disrespect, but that whole encounter struck him as hilarious.  "Dude, Cas... dude, that guy totally has a thing for you.  Hah,  _awkward_."

Cas scowled.  "I harbor no intentions for him."

"No, that's the awkward part," he snickered.

"I see."

Dean sighed, his chuckle fading.  "Man, you could totally have chicks all over you, but instead it's... well, yeah."

And cue the confused look complete with head-tilt.  "I do not see what amuses or concerns you."

"Um... never mind, Cas."

The frown persisted, but he said no more.

When they were done eating, Dean wondered what on earth they could do to pass the two hours remaining before the carriages would take them to Hogsmeade.  It dawned on him, Cas was here, so why not go practice Quidditch?

"Hey, Cas, do you wanna go practice for a bit?"

"We do not normally practice at this time. Do you know whether the pitch is being used?"

Dean shrugged.  "Probably not, there's not a game coming up soon, so none of the teams are holding extra practices.  C'mon!"  He hadn't actually waited for a confirmation from Cas, but it didn't seem necessary when the boy followed him out eagerly.

At a quarter to eleven, they traipsed back to the front doors where a gaggle of students and a few professors were waiting while Rufus prepared the carriages (the ground was especially muddy, so they'd decided not to make everyone walk).  Most students avoided watching this disconcerting sight, or they stared in confusion; Dean was amused by them.  Even in these troubled times, most students could not see the Threstrals, despite most having lost a loved one.  Dean was not one of them... he could still remember the fire.

It was easier to forget about it when he decided not to look into the milky white eyes of black, zombie-esque pegasi.  Besides, this was already far too good a day to be thinking about  _that_.  He and Cas had not so much practiced Quidditch as they had recklessly flown around using magic to toss the quaffle from one end of the field to the other, which was far more entertaining.  They day had started out so fun, Dean had to hope the Hogsmeade trip would meet his expectations.

"Hey! Guys!" Jo called them over to the steps.

Dean raised his arm and waved back, but her voice hadn't grabbed Cas' attention as well so Dean had to put a hand on his shoulder and steer him toward their friends.  He chose to ignore the fact that Cas was about to reach out and pet one of the horse-like creatures.

"Hey there, people!" Dean greeted when he and Cas stood beside the others.

"You seem really... chipper," Jo noted.

He smirked.  "So maybe I am."

"Listen up, people!" bellowed the gamekeeper.  The students quieted after a moment, so he nodded and clapped his hands together.  "Arright boys and girls, let me check your names, then we can go.  Let's make this quick!"

They queued up and had their names marked off a list, then set off in transport that seemed far too slow for Dean.  The carriages hobbled down the path to town at a painful rate, and eventually Jo kicked him in the shin for getting too restless.  "It isn't taking  _that_  long," she hissed.

 _Finally_ , they arrived at High Street and were released out onto the storefront, pouring out of their cabs like bees from their hives, off to drift among the flowers.

The group consisting of Dean, Castiel, Tessa, Ron, and Jo stood in a clump and surveyed their options.  Tessa began, "Where to firs--"

"Honeydukes!" Dean exclaimed over her.  Cas afforded her an apologetic smile for Dean's sake, Jo rolled her eyes and punched Dean in the arm, then they all followed their fearless leader who was already waltzing off toward the sweet shop.

Once inside, Jo pointed Tessa and Ron toward a display of chocolate truffles with butterbeer-flavored filling, leaving Dean to drag Cas every which way around the store.  He was flabbergasted to discover that the boy had never tried Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Fizzing Whizzbees, or even chocolate frogs!  Those were some of the staples of every witch or wizard's childhood!  While Dean educated Cas in the many varieties of... well, everything, the others were equally busy, though they frequently ran into each other again.

Because he was feeling particularly adventurous, Dean pulled his star pupil into the backroom when no one was looking.

"Dean, this is not allowed," Cas protested, but Dean would have none of it.

Steering Cas by the elbow, he browsed the shelves of extra stock.  Most boxes were labeled as current sale items, but the last couple of shelves carried yet-to-be-released merchandise.  Dean's jaw dropped and he brought down a box labeled "Penny Dessertine's Pie Pops: Apple, Cherry, Lemon, Lemon Meringue, Blackberry, Marion-berry, Rhubarb, Key Lime, Pumpkin, Cranberry, Pecan, Peach."  His eyes were so filled with joy that they started to well up with tears, and he opened the box reverently.  In it lay separately labeled bags for each flavor, each containing dozens of lollipops shaped like their respective pies.

"I don't believe it."  Dean swallowed.  "This is the best thing I've ever seen in my entire life, since I've never seen a room full of actual pie."

Cas smiled, but glanced around nervously.  "I am glad you are enjoying yourself, but we should not be here."

"But Cas," he pouted, "can't we--"

He stopped when a scraping sound came from somewhere near the stairs.  Dean quickly stuffed a handful of Pie Pops into his robe pockets, ignoring a disapproving look from his friend, and replaced the box on the shelf, not wanting to be caught red-handed.  Then he poked his head around the end of a row of stacked crates to see what the noise was, holding Cas back with the palm of his hand against the boy's chest.

To his surprise, an older Hogwarts student with green robes was climbing out of the floor where a flagstone used to be.  He peered around the room with a smug expression, then helped another young man out of the trapdoor.  Dean was pretty sure the first guy with brown hair and the sucker in his mouth was a Slytherin prefect, while the second was blond and unkempt, also a Slytherin.  Together, they put the tile back in place, but what happened next Dean had not been expecting at all.  The lollipop was drawn out with a loud slurp, then the two of them charged each other and started making out, gross smacking and soft moans included.

Dean turned away from the traumatizing sight and back toward Cas, making a gagging gesture.  Castiel looked confused by what he was hearing, unable to tell what was going on, and Dean attempted to explain with hand gestures.  This only made him tilt his head to one side once more, and Dean gave up.  Instead, he switched places with Cas so the boy could see the scene for himself; as soon as he caught a glimpse he turned away again, blushing.

Dean started to smirk evilly and almost made a joke about Cas' innocence, but one of the Slytherins interrupted any thought he might have been having by calling out, "Hey there, kids!"

 _Oh shit_ , he thought, meeting Cas' panicked eyes.

The other one chimed in, "It's alright, we won't tell anyone if you've been doing naughty things back here, as well..."

"Oh, come on, Bal, they're what? Twelve?"

"Doesn't mean they can't get up to mischief.   _We_ certainly did."

"Oh  _yes_ , I remember--"

"Dude, I don't wanna know," Dean cut them off, not wanting to hear  _any_  details of the relationship  _these_  two had.  He stepped out into the open and Cas followed suit.

"If you say so," the brunette, sweet-toothed one sighed.

"Also, I'm fourteen, not twelve. Douche bag."

"You can keep it in your pants, champ, I believe you."  Dean scowled at that, but before he could come up with a sufficient retort the guy waved up the stairs toward the entrance back into the shop and said, "Run along."

Dean didn't argue with that one, wanting to be out of their presence as soon as possible, and Cas was close behind him.  Close enough, in fact, that they nearly collided when Dean stopped at the door to see if the coast was clear.

They made it back out safely, though only by a thread, and they quickly picked out and bought their purchases, meeting the rest of their group outside in front of the display window.

"Where'd you guys go?" Jo asked, showing a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

Ron, on the other hand, was all suspicion.  "Were you hiding and plotting?"

"Plotting what?" Dean chuckled.

"You know... stuff."  He paused, then invented, "How to get me to eat an acid pop, that's what.  And let me tell you, it's not gonna happen."

"Son of a bitch, you caught us."

"Ha, I knew it!" Ron cried and pointed a finger, but grinned widely.

"What were you really doing?" Tessa whispered to Cas, but Dean heard her.

He lowered his voice.  "Nah, we were just perusin' the back room.  Y'know, they've got stuff back there that they're not even selling yet."

"Dean!" Jo chided, and Tessa looked horrified.  Ron looked both surprised and as though he'd been right all along, like he hadn't quite decided which to settle on.

"I did tell him that we should not have been back there, but he did not listen," Cas interjected.

"Okay, but you didn't actually stop him!"  She couldn't bring herself to direct anger at Cas, so she turned back to Dean.  "Seriously?!"

"What?  C'mon, we didn't get caught!"

She threw her hands in the air and argued, "That's not the point!  You just don't-- Ugh, whatever, Dean."

"Anybody want to go to Zonko's?" Ron suggested.

"Yes!" Dean asserted, and led them off once more.

Jo kept an eye on him the whole time they were in the second store, but Dean would never go into the storage of Zonko's, as wonderful as it could be.  It was far less accessible than the one in Honeydukes, so he wouldn't even try.  Plus, there was plenty here to show Cas as it was.

Despite growing up in a magical community, he was surprisingly deprived of all the things you're expected to grow up with.  Dean on the other hand grew up surrounded by muggles, but his dad still sometimes brought him back the occasional treat or toy from the wizarding world.  He wondered once again how Cas wound up like this with Professor Singer as a father.  That would have to be explained eventually.

When they and their feet were getting tired of shopping, the group made their way to the Three Broomsticks.  The warm inside was welcoming as always, and after a wave from Madam Rosmerta they sat down at one of the only two empty tables.  It was regrettably right beside a party of third year Slytherins, making them practically mortal enemies, but the two groups pretended to pay each other no heed.  They put a thick, imaginary wall between them that in fact only made the other side more distracting.

"Butterbeer for everyone, yeah?" Jo proposed.

There was a murmur of consent and she went up to get the drinks, Ron going after her to help carry them.  Tessa glanced back and forth between Cas and Dean with an awkward shrug of a smile while the three of them were left alone, but the other two were too busy twirling the realistically-growing fake moustaches they'd bought at the joke shop to notice.

Jo and Ron returned and everyone drank up, the boys with unfamiliar facial hair unsuccessful at avoiding the hazardous froth, getting it all over their lips and chins.  The five of them earned agitated glares from the neighboring table when they laughed heartily at Dean and Cas' now even more ridiculous faces dolloped with foam.

It would have been easy to further ignore the other table's sour expressions if Bela Talbot hadn't goaded, "Forget to lick your cream off your boyfriend's face there, Dean?"

Of course  _she_  would come up with a comment like that and have the nerve to say it.  Bela, the youngest student to run her own black market for banned commodities at Hogwarts, and certainly the richest kid in their year.  Dean thought she was the snobbiest, brattiest, most obnoxious, pampered bitch that ever lived.

He didn't hide this opinion as he started to rise from his seat, but Jo yanked him back down and snapped, "Don't."

"Don't what?" he jabbed back as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Just  _don't._ You're gonna start something, and you know how that ends," she hissed.  "She's just teasing, so let it go."

He didn't see how that solved anything, or how it made the bitch stop.  Plus, she hadn't just teased, she had made  _allegations_.  "What about Cas?"

"Huh?"

"She offended him, too!" he disputed.

Castiel blushed behind the napkin he was using to clean his nose and shrunk into his seat.  "It's alright," he whispered.

"No it's not!" Dean continued.

"Having trouble, Dean?" Bela cut back in, to the amusement of her friends.  "Can't quite find that repartee you're searching for so desperately?  Or do you not deny that he's your boyfriend?"

This got several "ooh"s from the nearby tables, all suddenly filled with avid listeners.

"He's not!  You little-- I swear to God, I'm gonna kick your ass, Bela--"

His chair scraped loudly as he surged out of it and tried to jump over a table to get to her, but was grabbed and pulled back by three people.  Bela stood calmly and dropped a few galleons on the table before guiding her posse out of the inn.

Madam Rosmerta glowered at Dean and pointed at the door.  As cheery a woman she could most often be, it was never a good idea to get on her bad side, so he gulped half his butterbeer, put down three sickles, and walked toward the exit.  To his surprise, his entire gang did likewise and came up behind him.

"You guys can stay," he urged.  "Really, it's just me that needs to leave."

"We're not letting you go out there alone!" Ron insisted.

He sighed, "You guys finish your drinks and hang out longer.  I screwed up, but she wouldn't make you leave, too.  C'mon, just stay?"

"No," Jo asserted.

And there was no arguing that.  Not with Jo.  So he slunk out of the restaurant and his friends followed him, more devoted than he deserved.

Of course, Bela had just left, so she was in the street, flashing a mocking smile at Dean while her cohorts chatted in amusement.  Jo yanked Dean's arm in the opposite direction, and they headed down the other sidewalk.

 _Trust Bela to ruin everything_ , he thought, but quickly redacted it.  He reassured himself that the day had gone very well before that, and it was endearing how willing Cas was to be led around like a puppy on a leash.  No matter how much of a bitch Bela was, she hadn't somehow erased that, or damaged anything other than Dean's pride.

This thought was what preoccupied him right as he stepped into the street, in front of an oncoming carriage.

Something about the noise to his right seemed off, but his brain delayed in reacting, in lifting up his head to see what was wrong.  Thankfully, before that, he heard his name being shouted just behind him and hands grabbed his arms to wrench him back to safety.

By the time he reached the conclusion that the day was not ruined, he was lying on top of Cas, crushing him into the mud.

Both boys spluttered and struggled to untangle their limbs and pick themselves off the ground, while trying so hard to help each other that they only threw themselves back down.  It didn't help that the passing wheels splashed them, accompanied by angrily apologizing voices.

"Ooh, mud wrestling," cooed the voice they thought they'd lost a minute ago.

"Seriously, Bela, just fuck off," Ron snapped, surprising them all with the speed of his reaction, and the choice of his words.  Granted, swearing only seemed unlike him because he had never done it before, at least not out loud and in front of them.

Even their favorite Slytherin was shocked into shutting up and walking away.

Jo and Tessa helped Dean and Cas stand up again, plastered in freezing cold mud.  Dean ignored his state of being, walking right up to Ron with a serious expression and placing a hand on his friend's shoulder.  "I knew I trained you well, young Padawan."

He was met with blank expressions from all his friends, and Ron's mouth opened and closed as though wondering whether it should know how to respond.  Cas was the only one willing to admit, "I don't understand that reference."

Dean turned sharply to him.  "C'mon, guys!  _Star Wars!_ "

Their faces reached something between impassive and concerned.

"God, you people need to get out more.  Those movies are the best."

"Aren't they made by muggles?" Tessa asked, not condescending but curious.

Dean automatically interpreted her tone to be the former.  "Yeah, so what?  They're  _good_."

"What are they?" Cas questioned skeptically.  Based on his expression, Dean had to guess that the boy had never even heard of motion picture.

"Oh man, you're missing out!" he exclaimed, "You have to see them!  They're like moving pictures, but they have sound and music, and there's epic battles and..."  He was losing Cas, and needed to change his tactic.  Something nerdier, probably.  "Like reading a book only you see and hear everything that happens."

Now Cas' eyebrows rose, widening his eyes in wonder.

"Yeah, see!  They're totally awesome!  Seriously, I'm gonna make you watch them someday.  That's a promise."  He punctuated it with a look that said,  _And you know I don't make promises lightly_.

Castiel nodded his acceptance.  "I shall keep you to it."

"I  _always_  keep my promises."

"If you two are done planning dates, maybe you'll notice that you're still covered in mud?" Jo pointed out exasperatedly.

Dean looked down at his robes.  "Oh yeah."

That make Cas laugh, all crinkly eyes and teeth showing. Dean had the frighteningly girly thought that he should do that more often, and decidedly shoved it down, changing the subject instead.  "You know what we haven't seen yet today?"

"What?"

"The Shrieking Shack."

Jo rolled her eyes and Ron looked like he wanted to run away.  Tessa looked apprehensive too, but Cas hadn't even heard him.  The blue-eyed boy was pulling out his wand, pointing it at Dean, and licking his lips in concentration.  Dean stared at the tip but stopped himself from stepping backwards, waiting until Cas recited, " _Scourgify_."

Most of the visible mud disappeared, the rest dried.  His hair especially remained a mess - nothing a good ruffle couldn't fix.  Cas had one of his odd staring moments when Dean ran his fingers over his scalp roughly to rub away the dirt, and he didn't look away until he muttered a "thanks" when Dean used the same incantation to clean the even more extensive mud off Cas.

"What commodity can be found at the Shrieking Shack?" he inquired.  So Cas  _had_  heard him.

Dean raised an eyebrow, truly surprised by Cas' ignorance this time.  "Dude, don't you know any of the stories?  What do you even  _do_  all the time?"

"I raise animals with my father and I read books," he answered simply.

Yep, definitely a nerd.  That was okay though, because it meant he would probably really love  _Star Wars_.

"Well, since you don't know about the Shrieking Shack, which is  _ridiculous_  by the way, now you  _have_  to see it," Dean asserted.

He dragged the whole group, Cas far more interested and eager than any of the others, down the street to the path that twisted slightly before reaching the sagging structure.

Dean stopped in front of the rusty fence, staring at the thing it contained like a challenge.   _Think you can scare me, mister shack?  Don't think so, nice try._

"Dean?"

He whipped around with a start because Castiel was a foot away from him.  "Woah, hey Cas," he hitched a laugh and stepped back.

"This is an abandoned building," he reproached, voice subtly gaining in gravelly-levels.  Jo looked smug that Cas shared her opinion.

Dean peered back up at the dilapidated place.  "Yeah, but it's famous for being the most haunted building in the country. Seriously dude, how do you not know these things?"

His friend shrugged.  "I learn the  _important_  facts."

Spluttering at Cas' newfound talent for comebacks, he managed, "No you don't, you memorize all that astronomy stuff like crazy--"

"And you apparently know every song by a band called 'Lid-Zappin--"

"It's Led Zeppelin, and you don't even know who they are.  If you did, you'd know that their music is worth every moment of every day."

"Yes, Dean, if you say so."  Who knew the guy could be so sarcastic?

Dean acted like Cas had been sincere and lifted his chin triumphantly, secretly singing 'Ramble On' in his head.

Ronald looked up at the shack on the hill, completely inattentive to the conversation.  "Creepy," he muttered, shifting on his feet.  Tessa nodded in agreement.

"Nah, it's just doing that to fool you."  Dean waved a dismissive hand toward the shadowy building.  "It hasn't made a sound for years."

As if on cue, because the world knows that messing with Dean is fun, a wailing scream rose from the small hill in front of them, making them all jump out of their skins.

"What the fu--?!" Dean exclaimed over Ron's responding shriek.

The sound died away and Jo gasped, "What  _was_  that?!"

A woman in muddy rags came staggering around the path from the other side of the shack where the train tracks were, and all five friends exchanged glances, relieved that it hadn't come from inside the landmark after all.  However, now they had to worry that whatever the problem was, it was outside and the woman was approaching them, however unsteadily.

They huddled together and Dean put himself in front, though so did Jo.  The two of them stretched their arms out and back protectively around Ron, Cas, and Tessa as the hunched figure drew nearer.

Dean realized that they couldn't actually be sure that she was the source of the sound, at least until she screamed again, almost exactly the same way, and maybe even more chilling now that they could see the cry being produced by such a gaunt, flimsy frame.

"EEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! MY SON!" she wailed.

Her voice sent a chill down Dean's spine - he'd never seen someone in this much despair.

She wailed again, something that sounded like a drawn-out name, the syllables indiscernible.

"Should we help her?"  Jo's hushed voice cracked with sympathy.

Dean took a deep breath, preparing to make a decision.  Then he stepped forward and asked forcefully, "Who are you?"

She stopped in her tracks at once, fifteen feet away, her mouth hanging open like she was choking silently.  "Running," she finally rasped.

Not exactly the answer to his question, but he'd accept it.  The woman was clearly not in her right mind.  "Running from what?" he inquired hesitantly, not sure if he wanted to know.

"Running, running," she continued to chant, as though her mind had landed on a track and  _had_  to follow it.  "Demons, running, running..."  Her feet started shuffling again, and then she was staggering toward them much more quickly than before.  "...  _running_ , RUNNING!"

She didn't slow as she came right up to them, and when they moved aside, her path plowed right through the place they previously stood. It was as if she just remembered that Hell was on her heels, and she would stop for no one.  Which is why it surprised them all when she turned around and yelled at them, "They'll take you!  RUN!"

Well, they didn't need a bigger hint than that.  So, they followed her back to Main Street, despite the fact that they still hadn't seen anything chasing her.  They might not have proof of anything, and she might be completely crazy, but when someone tells you to run, you run.  They didn't go at their own full speed, as they tried to stay behind the woman and protect her from whatever was behind them, and she kept screaming at them to hurry, to keep running.

The town center was well into upheaval by the time they arrived, the screams from the Shrieking Shack having been heard.  The group coming around the bend was met halfway up the path by five Aurors, a few of those designated to protect the town and school, who surrounded them and hustled them back to the square.

The serious-looking witches and wizards grabbed the woman and tried to calm her down, but she continued howling and writhing, pulling one Auror into the mud with her in her fit of fear and rage.  Two from the team went further up the path to the hill to scout the area while a remaining two kept their attentions on the five kids that had just stumbled into this.  One witch put her hands on Dean's shoulders and commanded intently, "Tell me everything that just happened."

He gulped, then rattled off, "We were just standing over there when she came out from behind the Shrieking Shack and started... shrieking.  And then she told us to run, so we did."

"Did she say anything else?"

Her eyes were coldly searching his for an answer, and he supplied it, "She screamed for her son.  She might have said his name, but I couldn't understand her."

"Thank you--"  She stopped, giving him room to say his name.

"Dean."

"Dean.  Wait, are you John's boy?"

He nodded tightly and she gave him a warm pat on the arm.  He wanted to pull away from the comfort, insist he didn't need it, but right now he could admit even to himself that he was scared.  His eyes trained on his mud-soaked sneakers as she stepped away to talk to her colleague.

Immediately, there was a flash of blue and white light from the direction of the shack, and one of the F.B.M. agents came hurtling back down the path, shouting for them to get everybody out.

It was not as chaotic as it would have been two or three years ago - people were beginning to get accustomed to this sort of thing - and the aurors efficiently spread themselves out to make sure everyone was following emergency procedure.  The Hogwarts students heard the noise, came out of the shops, and formed a pack in the square until Professor Adler marched up and called out, "Students! All students to the carriages!"

Everything happened in a flurry, so nobody could really see what happened when the aurors surrounded someone who had just burst out onto the road.  Spells flew, but not for long.  The only thing Dean saw clearly was a figure with bound arms and legs being held up by two others, and all of them disapparating right as the black carriage door shut in his face.

"Well, that was crazy," he commented, too casually for the situation.

"Seriously," Jo huffed her agreement.

They all stared out the windows anxiously until Cas sucked in a breath and professed, "I enjoyed today's trip, despite its abrupt ending."

Dean gave him a huge smile.  It warmed his heart that he'd been successful in today's adventures, or at least Cas thought they were great.

"Sucks that Bela was a bitch," Tessa chimed in, making them all turn in surprise.  It quite possibly could have been the first time she ever swore, and she didn't talk very much in their group as it was.  Jo seemed more bemused than the others, and Dean had the feeling that she had been the bad influence that caused it.

He raised his eyebrows and chuckled, "Hah, same ol' Bela."

Cas rolled back his shoulders.  "The next time we see her, would it be acceptable if I punch her in the face?"

Dean gaped, even more shocked at him than Tessa.  "Dude... feel free to punch her anytime."

For the rest of the carriage ride, they enumerated the ways in which they could take revenge against Bela, ignoring the thought plaguing the backs of all their minds - what happened in Hogsmeade just now?  Were they still safe at Hogwarts?


	3. Chapter 3

Security was tightened drastically after that day in March.  It turned out that one of Yellow Eyes' followers was chasing the screaming woman, who probably escaped from torture then somehow made it into Hogsmeade from the northeast.  The Demon Guard, that woman they arrested, was currently locked in a holding cell somewhere, according to gossip around the school and eventually a report in the Daily Prophet.

Dean tried not to panic.

It was the first time he'd had to deal with this particular stress while he was apart from his brother.  He needed to protect Sam, but this time he was in a different part of the country, too far away to shield from danger.

And on top of it all, their owls were screened, all the fireplaces except the Headmaster's were disconnected from the floo network, and there was no other way for him to contact Sam. He didn't want to risk asking about his brother's safety in a letter and getting the Federal Bureau of Magic on their doorstep; that was the last thing Sam and Pastor Jim needed.  Besides, who he really wanted to reach was his dad. He wanted to know more about the Demons' movements, and his dad knew everything about them. He spent all his time tracking them, hunting them endlessly.

If one of them was near Hogsmeade, there was a risk that they were trying to reach Hogwarts, which scared him more than he was willing to admit. He worried that if they were trying to get to Hogwarts, they could be trying to get to him and Sam again.  Dean was sure his dad had found out whatever it was they were plotting by now, and was probably already devising a way to stop them; his dad was a genius when it came to tracking, there was no question of that.

The problem was this: his dad was driving around the country, and could be anywhere. He sent a message every few months, once showed up for Sam's eighth birthday, but that was all they ever saw or heard from him. To find out what was going on and make sure Sam was safe, he'd have to contact his dad, and had no idea where to start.

Well, one idea was the muggle post - often John sent letters using the U.S. government's services instead of owl.  It worked well because it was normal for Pastor Jim to get muggle mail, and _that_ wouldn't be screened. Dean wondered if there was a way to send something to his dad, to ask him all the questions he had. Surely there was some way to reach him... and perhaps Jim would know.

Which presented the next problem. Sending an owl to Jim and Sam asking about his father would be questioned by the Bureau for sure. His dad technically worked for them and yet they heard from him as little as his sons did. So, Dean would have to find a more private way to contact home, and it dawned on him.

Headmaster Shurley's office was still connected to the floo network, and it had to be the most secure line there was. They'd be heavily protecting it from outside intrusion, from anyone tapping in, even the F.B.M.

It was a logical assumption, considering the tightness of security everywhere else in the castle. Restricted hours were pushed earlier, especially where it concerned going outside the castle itself.  Students were only let onto the grounds for Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, or supervised Quidditch team practices. That put a halt to Dean and Cas' routine, and they spent hours in the Great Hall that were previously spent on the field.  It made Dean wish even more than before that they were in the same house so they could hang out in the coziness of the common room, with couches and comfy chairs.  Or the school just needed to have a student lounge that wasn't the library.

They were currently sitting at the Gryffindor dining table, doing potions homework.  Rather, Cas was writing an essay while Dean messed with his inkwell and played with his quill and flipped through his book absently.

He'd just come up with his idea, and he simply needed to share it, especially since he was sure Cas would be his partner in crime.

Apparently Cas read his mind.  "Stop being a nuisance and tell me why you are so restless," he sighed, admonishing and amused, not looking up from his paper.

"I'm not restless!" Dean defended.  That got him a raised eyebrow and a pointed look, followed by a subtle tweak of the nose toward the inkwell cap that he'd been screwing on and off.  "Alright, whatever," he conceded, "but I gotta tell you about my idea."

"Is it just an idea, or is it one of your  _ideas?"_   Cas scrutinized.

"Ha, ha, you're hilarious.  But really, this is a huge idea.  And it's important."

At that, his friend looked almost concerned, but instead of questioning Dean's sudden seriousness, he inquired, "What is it?"

Dean lowered his voice considerably.  "Okay, so I really want to check on Sam, but I don't want the Bureau to get all up in our business.  Also, I want to find out if there's a way for me to contact my dad--" Cas took a sharp breath "--and that definitely cannot go down in a letter.  So, I was thinking the only way to talk completely privately would be to use the fireplace in Shurley's office."

"What are you saying, Dean?"  Contrary to his words, Cas looked like he knew exactly what he was saying, but didn't want to believe it.

"I'm saying we need to break in there and get my brother on the other end, or I swear I'm gonna go crazy," he hissed.

Cas' eyes narrowed.  "And how are you going to do that?  How do you think you're going get away with it?  Oh, and shall I add,  _you have already gone crazy."_

"Alright, I know it sounds impossible, thanks for the head's up.  I've got a plan, Cas, trust me.  I just have to get sent to his office for something, and then I was  _hoping_  that you and Jo and Tessa and Ron could... provide a distraction.  I dunno, just shake things up right outside his office, and get him to leave me in there alone and I can--"

"Dean," Cas stopped him.  "You seem to be ignoring very crucial details.  Getting sent to the Headmaster's office means there will be consequences, whether or not they are for the offense you are contriving.  Do you even know how many rules you will have to break?"

"Cas, I would break every rule in the book to make sure Sammy is safe."  He grimaced.  "That sounds cheesy and girly, but it's the truth."

"I don't think it sounds cheesy," the boy said softly with his eyes lowered, but he lifted them back up and stared intently at Dean to punctuate, "However, I don't want you jumping brashly into possible expulsion."

"Hoh, I've thought of that.  That's the last thing I want, but there's gotta be a way.  Like, there really  _has_  to be."

"Perhaps," Cas sighed solemnly.  He turned back to his paper and Dean figured there was nothing left to do but get his homework done too, for once.

~~~

"You guys would help me, right?"  Dean swallowed.  He was staring hopefully at Jo and Ron, who were sitting on the couch next to his chair in the common room.

"Dean, it's only been four days since all that happened.  Why don't you just... give it time?  Wait to find out until the Government is ready to share?" Jo suggested all-too-reasonably.

He scoffed, "Like they're always free with their information, sure.  Besides, I won't believe Sam is safe until I talk to him."

"What makes you think what happened on Saturday has anything to do with Sam?" she questioned.

"It... it just does, okay?" he spluttered, "You have to believe me.  And you have to help me, I can't do this alone."  Giving them both pleading looks, Dean lingered on Ron because he hadn't spoken yet, supplying Dean the hope that he had yet to set his mind against this reckless idea.

"You're insane."

So much for that.  "Thanks, Ron, same to you."

"You don't have the cleanest track record, you know," Jo reminded.  "I'm pretty sure you don't want a week of detention with Crowley again--"

"We have to find a way to get me to Chuck's office, not get me expelled.  Who says I have to get in trouble?"

"Uh, you gonna get an invitation?"

"Can I?" he jumped at the suggestion.

She rolled her eyes.  "I don't think it works like that."

"Spoilsport."

"Dean, are you serious about this or not?" she demanded.  "You keep flip-flopping."

"I'm serious, okay?" he reassured her.  This  _was_  really important, he just needed a plan.  And it made him nervous.   _Pssh, I'm not nervous,_  he lied to himself as soon as the thought crossed his mind.

Jo crossed her arms, reading his mind as usual.  "You just have to be sure, 'cause if you try to get into his office, there's no going back."

"Yeah, I know.  I'm sure."

~~~

"I  _did_  say there would be no going back!"

Dean grumbled, but grudgingly followed Jo down the second floor passageway to the office of the head of Gryffindor house.

“Castiel is already talking to him, so you’re not getting out of this, no matter how much you whine.”

“I’m not whining!”

She gave him a pointed look as they turned a corner.  The door was coming right up on the left, but before they reached it, it opened and a head of messy, black hair poked out and looked around.  When it spotted Dean, it smiled and waved him over.  “Dean, there you are!”

“You weirdo,” Dean laughed as he walked up and ruffled Cas’ hair.

“Um, he says he might be able to help.  Just... speak to him.”  He curved his mouth upward reassuringly.

Dean smiled back hesitantly and patted him on the shoulder, saying, “Thanks.”  And then he walked into the room.

Professor Singer was sitting at his desk, a stack of flipped-open books pushed aside, elbows in their place so he could lean forward intently.  Cas stayed by the open door and Jo joined him, while Dean stepped forward and sat in the chair facing the professor.

He gulped.

“Look,” Singer spoke, taking off his hat to scratch the back of his head, “I’ll try my best to help ya, son, but it ain’t gonna be easy.”

“I know.”

“Believe it or not, I understand how badly ya wanna talk to your brother, there’s just barely anything I can do.  Maybe the Headmaster--”

“Can I talk to him?” Dean interrupted, perhaps too eagerly.

Singer noticed, but only lifted an eyebrow.  “You can try.  Don’t know how much good it’ll do.”

“Please?  I just need to know that Sammy’s okay.”

The professor nodded slowly.  “Yeah, okay.”

A bright smile of relief lit Dean’s face.  “Thank you, Professor, thank you!”

“Yeah, yeah, just remember that this is going behind the backs of the F.B.M., and they ain’t too pretty a bunch when ya get on their bad side.”

“Then I won’t get on their bad side,” he assured, grinning winningly (he hoped).

“Let me call Chuck,” the man sighed.  Dean waited in anticipation for what he would do, and was surprised when he got out his wand and shot out some silvery light that only formed a shape just before it went through the wall, so he never saw exactly what it was.

“What was that?”

He scratched his beard.  “That was a patronus.  It... well, it does a bunch of stuff.”

“Like send messages?”

“Yeah, and fight off Dementors.  Surprised you haven’t seen one before.”  He leaned back and laced his fingers over his stomach.

Dean’s eyebrows went up.  “Woah, sweet.  Have  _you_  ever fought off Dementors?”

“Uh...” Singer stammered.

After a long, awkward pause and before he answered the question, another patronus entered the room.  This one was a rabbit, and Dean wondered if they all looked like different animals.

It twitched its nose, opened its mouth, and spoke with Headmaster Shurley’s nervous voice, “Uh, send him to my office, I guess.”  Then it disappeared.

“Well, that was short,” the professor scoffed.  He shrugged then stood up, stretching his back and announcing, “Alright, Winchester, let’s go see Chu--the Headmaster.”

“Really? Now?” Dean inquired.

“Apparently.”

Dean stood from his chair as well and followed Professor Singer out the door, where he was stopped.  He forgot that Cas and Jo were still standing there listening, though it looked like they’d been having a quiet conversation aside.

“Ya better head back to your common rooms, kids.  It’s getting close to curfew.”  He seemed to direct that more at Cas than Jo, but he nodded to both of them with a meaningful look.

“Yes, father,” Cas chimed.

“Sure thing, Professor,” Jo agreed, acting ever so slightly begrudging about it.

After a brief pause, he gestured, opening his arms.  “Well, don’t just stand there waitin’.”  They finally straightened up, exchanged glances, and hurried off down the hallway.  Singer shook his head and nodded down the other direction, “Headmaster’s office is this way.”

Dean followed him in silence, just like last time they were alone, and just as unpleasant.

He didn’t want to repeat that experience.  “So... there’s really nothing wrong with talking to my brother?”

“Of course not, ya idjit.  I can’t promise it’ll work, but you have every right to try.”  He sighed heavily and stopped in his tracks, resting a hand on Dean’s shoulder.  “Boy, you act like I don't feel for ya.  Who do ya think worries all day long that some murderous Demon is gonna come waltzin' into the school and kill every last soul?  I understand you worryin' about your brother, especially with what happened in Hogsmeade."

Dean was starting to regret that he had a plan to call Sam and Jim using subterfuge when he might get permission to do it anyway.  But it was too late to call off Cas and Jo; the plan was in motion.  "Oh," was all he managed to respond.

"C'mon, let's keep walkin'."  Singer gestured ahead and led them forward again.  It was only one floor up and a few hallways around to the tower where Headmaster Chuck Shurley resided - Dean had never known where it was before.  The professor headed straight to a statue of an ugly gargoyle standing against a wall and said, "Chevy."

"Isn't that a muggle car?" Dean asked, but his question went unanswered.

The gargoyle jumped aside, to Dean's surprise, and revealed an opening to a spiral staircase which rotated upward once they stepped on it.  It stopped at the top landing, where there were oak doors like smaller versions of the front doors to the castle.  His escort knocked on the door and opened it when the affirming reply came, but didn't go inside, letting Dean go through and closing the door behind him.

The Headmaster was sitting at his desk, fingers pulling at his hair as he stared down at some pieces of paper.  They were blank.

~~~

Bela had a client tonight, as was often the case.  It was the same old kind of deal; people generally wanted dungbombs or trick wands to prank their friends, and since those were banned, she provided them.  She... had her own ways of getting the items past Caretaker Frank Devereaux's wearying scans on all students as they came back in the castle from any trip outside the walls.  Simple concealing charms could never do the trick, and it seemed that no one else in this silly little school had the knack for them the way she did.  She was a naturally talented smuggler.

This evening was no high-stakes trade, just some first-year who would spend his parents' money on overpriced, exploding playing cards.  The third floor corridor was a reasonably out-of-the-way place to hold the trade, though a less conspicuous time could have been chosen.  For some reason, the boy had been utterly insistent that the meeting be at that precise time and place, but she decided not to turn down the several galleons she would get for her trouble.

As she rounded the corner and found the hallway crawling with fist-sized spiders, however, the agreement did not seem worthwhile  _at all_.

~~~

"Uh, Headmaster?"

He glanced up and Dean noticed that he looked tired and pale, olive green robes put on untidily.

"Hello, Dean," he answered.

"So Singer told you about--"

"Yeah," he interrupted quickly.  "Listen, I know it's gotta be hard not knowing what the Demon whatever are up to, but um... I can't--I can't help you avoid the Bureau.  And, uh, how do you know they'll do anything if you send a letter?"

"Cause they never leave shit like this alone," he snapped.   _Crap, didn't mean to let_  that _slip out._

Shurley's mouth opened and closed wordlessly for a second before he weakly scolded, "Um, watch that... language.  What, uh-- what makes you say that?"

"I'm sick of everyone telling me they understand! Seriously,  _you don't_.  You don't know what it's like growing up the way me and my brother did, or what it's like not being there now!"  He found himself clenching his hands into fists and slowly approaching the Headmaster's desk, where the man was still sitting.  Well, there was no stopping his rant now, "And the Bureau - our oh-so-gracious government - have their noses in our life  _all the time_.  They never just leave us alone,  _we're Winchesters_."

There was a scream followed by a crash from the corridor below, and Dean inwardly sighed with relief.

Chuck, on the other hand, jumped out of his skin and stared at his office door like it would explode in lieu of bursting open.  The situation had been so tense as it was, the continuing shrieks practically rattled his bones.  "I, uh, should probably go see what that is," he admitted, battling inwardly and resigning to the call of duty.  Dean watched him shuffle to the exit and turn at the last to point at him.  "Um, don't move."

He gave a sharp nod.  It helped that he was so freaked out by what he was about to do, because looking freaked made the nod more convincing, like it was Chuck's authority that he feared, even after his outburst.  In a round-about way, it was, but mostly he just couldn't stand the thought of being expelled.

The door closed behind Chuck, who should be kept busy for quite a while with the ruckus that Jo cooked up.  Cas had been reluctant to help until she shared her idea, then he was plenty eager to get his hands on the job.  Who knew the kid could want revenge so badly?

Dean rushed to the fireplace and found the floo powder on the mantlepiece, tossing it into the flame and growling, "Four-eighty, Seventh Street, Blue Earth, Minnesota."

It flared green, then he held his breath and stuck his face into the fire.

He could see the living room before him, but it was empty.  When he tried to call out, his warm, dry, and scratchy throat tensed so he coughed and spluttered in the soot for a moment.  It left him teary eyed, but he tried again, and this time he rasped, "Guys!  Sam!  Jim!  Are you there?"

There was still silence.

His voice grew a bit stronger and he continued, "Guys, it's me, Dean!  Are you home?"

There was a sudden clatter from the kitchen then a man and a small boy came running into the living room, looking around for the source of his voice.

"Down here!  Fireplace!  Look, I don't have all that much time--"

"DEAN!" Sam cried and practically skidded to his knees on the carpet, leaning toward the grate.

He chuckled, "Hey, Sammy boy.  How are you?  Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine!  What's wrong, Dean?"

"There hasn't been any, uh," his voice dropped to a whisper, "Demon activity lately?"

Sam's face went very serious very quickly.  "No, not here.  I heard about what happened at school.  Are  _you_  okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, kid," he reassured, nodding firmly.  "I was checking up on  _you_.  But... there's one more thing.  Jim?"

The pastor, still wearing his uniform and collar, stepped forward and squatted by the fireplace.  "Yes, son?"

"Is... is there a way I can contact Dad?"

The man's face faltered, then darkened, far more shadowed than Sam's face could manage, no matter how deep a frown the ten-year-old made.  "Dean, what you're saying is--"

"Don't tell me it's impossible!" he shouted.  Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he continued more reservedly, "I need to know what he knows about the Demon Guards, the Devil's Army, whatever. They're moving and  _something_  is happening, I just know it.  But I need to find out what they're doing, because I think it involves us."

"Involves us?  How?" Sam questioned.

"I don't know!  That's why I need to talk to Dad!  Please, please tell me there's a way to find him or leave him a message or  _something_."

Pastor Jim averted his eyes toward his toes and sighed.  "It might work, but I'm not sure..."

"What might work?" Dean demanded.

"Your father keeps many muggle safe-storage facilities, where wizards don't or won't look.  He keeps several different identities as well, so people can contact him and... not know who he is.  I assume, and let me emphasize  _assume_ , that if a message was sent for him to one of these storage sites, they would call a number under one of those identities.  It's... possible."

"Let's do it, then!  Do you know where any of those places are?"

"One, yes--"

"Then send him a message!  Say I need to talk ab--"  He turned his head as there was a noise from behind him, the grinding of stone perhaps.  "I have to go!  Stay out of trouble!"

"Bye, D--"

But he had to pull out before his brother could finish his goodbye.  It was just as well, because he barely had time to stand up and take a deep breath of clean air before the door opened back up and Professor Singer burst in.

The man obviously did not find it hard to put two and two together.  "You went ahead and talked to him  _anyway?!"_

Cas and Jo were behind him, staring shame-faced at the floor.

 _Son of a bitch,_  Dean thought as he realized they were all in deep trouble.

"Boy, you might think you got guts takin' this fool's errand, but this ain't some game.  And how  _dare_  you get my  _son_  involved--"

"Bobby?"  The Headmaster had returned, and was standing in the doorway looking extremely confused.

Dean hastily rubbed the soot out of his hair and off his shoulders, wiping his face on his sleeve as well and hoping that he wasn't too  obvious.  He was already caught by the professor, but maybe there was a chance Shurley wouldn't find out, if he could just get them all out of their current situation.

Apparently he didn't even have to try.

"Sorry, Chuck, we were just leaving," Singer announced bitterly.  "Come on, kids."

He led the way out, the three students close in tow, but the Headmaster stopped him.  "Did you, um, figure out what to do about the--?"

"Yep.  I'm takin' care of it."  And they left.

~~~

It felt like it took an hour to get back to the professor's office, and when they did, he shut the door carefully behind them.  He didn't move behind his desk, just loomed over them, the three lined up for the firing squad.

"Alright, ya bunch o' idjits.  You've played your clever little trick, now this is over."  He didn't raise his voice too much, but they could see he was far more angry than he was letting on.  "I'm not about to tell anybody what you just did, since we'd have the Bureau on us in a heartbeat and you'd be in a helluva lot more trouble than y'are now, but I think a week of detention for each of ya ought to keep this from happenin' again."

All of their shoulders slumped and Dean groaned, "Oh,  _come on_ \--"

"Boy, you better watch that mouth," Singer snapped and pointed.  "I hear one more complainin' peep outta you, I'll double that detention."

Dean gulped and stood straighter.  He had  _never_  seen this side of any professor, no matter how much trouble he got himself into.

"Better."  He turned to Cas, laying a palm on his shoulder.  "Castiel, I can't believe you let him drag you into this.  I thought you could recognize a stupid plan when ya saw one--"

"No, Father."

He fell silent, so surprised he was to be interrupted by his son.  After a few beats he frowned.  "What?"

"He didn't drag me into this," Cas clarified, looking the man in the eye for the first time since they were in Shurley's office.

"Yeah?" he shouted in disbelief, interrogating, "Then how did you end up in that hallway, hidin' behind suits of armor while ya set a bunch o' spiders on Bela Talbot?"

"It was my idea."

That came as even more of a shock.  "Do I look like a fool to you?  These two are the first I'd blame for thinkin' up a prank like that, and you're the last!  Stop tryin' to protect your friends' sorry little butts, I ain't buyin' it."

"I am telling the truth," Cas continued determinedly.  "Bela said some... depreciating things.  This was a better option than punching her."

Dean hid his uncontainable grin.

"Oh, well I'm glad you chose the lesser o' two evils," Singer spouted sarcastically.

"Father--"

He held up a hand.  "You know what, I don't care which one o' you came up with this reckless mission - you're all gettin' detention anyway.  And twenty points from each o' you-- _yes_ , even my own house," he stopped them when they opened their mouths to argue, "You're lucky I don't make it fifty, but that  _might_  get a little too much attention so I'm bein' nice."

Dean and Jo met each other's nervous eyes, wary of what their classmates would think when they found forty fewer points in the Gryffindor scorekeeper the next morning.

"Winchester, you'll see me at two thirty tomorrow, in your afternoon break.  Harvelle, meet me at four--"

"Wait, we're at different times?" Dean jumped in.

The professor gave him a singeing glare.  "Yeah, like I'm gonna stick you kids in detention  _together."_

He tried to think of a rebuttal, but had to admit that he was just thinking the only reason he'd make it through those hours was that he'd be spending them with Jo and Cas.  Singer was absolutely correct that this was exactly the way to make them all miserable.  "Right," was all Dean could think to say.

"Right," the man echoed, then finished, "And Castiel, you'll meet me after dinner at six.  I'll escort ya back to your common room at seven thirty.  Got it?"

"Yes, sir," they chorused, not quite at the same time, with Dean lagging the most.

He sighed and shooed them away.  "Go to bed, ya idjits."

~~~

Dean dreaded detention.  Cas' dad - man, it was weird to call him that - seemed strict and grumpy, possibly even crusty.   _So_ not fun to spend an extra hour and a half with him every afternoon for an entire week.  He'd probably get railed the entire time for being such an "idjit" and for corrupting his sweet little Castiel.  Well, the guy could suck it.

Dean should just learn to ignore his expectations.

The professor greeted him at two thirty saying, "Get yer boots on."

Turned out that there was hardly any talking once he was set to shoveling Hippogriff manure and scraping out the Knarl cages.  There were a surprising number of creatures that the school kept that he hadn't learned about yet, though it seemed like the professor was trying to make him more familiar with the ones he had.  The Bowtruckles again proved to be particularly nasty, but he didn't have to go to the hospital wing this time.  At this rate, he would be more than prepared for his Care of Magical Creatures final before Spring Break even started.

He was exhausted by four o'clock, and smelled like several animals had taken residence in his clothes.  It was more hard work than he had ever done in his life, and Singer actually patted him on the back, going as far as to say, "Good work, boy."

Dean had just been frustrated, and he guessed he must have taken it out on all that crap.  He'd been thinking of the message for his father the entire time, and wondering how long it would take to hear back from him, if he ever would.  The idea to half-ass the chores the way he did most everything else hadn't even crossed his mind.

After a quick shower and clean robes, he found Cas in the Entrance Hall.

"How did it go?" the boy asked.

"Stinky," Dean remarked, giving further description at Cas' quizzical look, "He had me cleaning half the cages in the shelter behind the greenhouses, plus mucking out the Hippogriffs' stalls.  It  _reeked_."

The boy afforded that a disgusted face, though he also admitted, "I am somewhat accustomed to such smells."

"Well, aren't you special, Mr. I-Grew-Up-With-This-Shit," Dean teased.

Cas squinted and tilted his head, glaring at him.  "And yet I smell less like it."

"Hey!  I showered!"  Despite acting indignant, he was chuckling.

Cas rolled his eyes as they both turned and started walking toward the Great Hall, to their usual spot.  "Define the activity you call showering."

"Oh, you need to be informed, Mr. Smelly-Pants?"

"I am neither 'Mr. I-Grew-Up-With-This-Shit' or 'Mr. Smelly-Pants.'  I 'believe' my name is 'Castiel.'"

Dean stopped walking and bent double laughing hysterically at Cas, whose mockery of his voice and use of airquotes made him silly.  "Dude," he panted when he could force air into his squeezed-sore lungs, "who taught you how to use airquotes, and where can I find them?"

"What are you going to do?" he demanded, still putting on a serious act that only made it funnier to Dean.

He had to wipe at his smile-crinkled, watering eyes as he sniffed, "It's too much, Cas.  You're killing me, man."

The boy finally broke his poker face and smiled at his victory over Dean.  "It is not my intention to kill you."

"Well, you're doin' a swell job there," he grinned.

Cas shrugged and turned to finish leading the way to their seats.  Dean couldn't even remember the last time he saw his friend at the Hufflepuff table, or the last time he spent a single day without hanging out in the Great Hall during all his breaks.  It certainly improved his homework habits, and the boy was steadily ensuring that Dean's grades rose at least a letter each before the end of the year.  He would never have considered spending his time this way and thinking it was fun, but trust Cas to flip his world view upside-down.

Later, Jo came back from her own detention looking equally as exhausted as Dean had felt, and sporting a fresh tear in her sleeve.  She plopped down next to him just as he put the finishing punctuation on his Charms paper.

He looked at her expectantly, wondering aloud, "How'd it go?"

She took a deep breath.  "I never want to look at a moose again."

"That bad?" he laughed.  She would be lucky if she went one day without seeing a moose, considering the school kept a herd of them.  He was sure that was why she seemed to be done with them.

Glaring as though she wanted to sting him, she punched him in the arm with enough force to make him pout and rub at the spot.  " _You_  try spending an hour and a half  _grooming_  them and cleaning their hooves and picking stupid magical moss from their antlers.  Let me tell you, they don't like the attention."

"Don't worry, I'm sure it was just you," he badgered.

She pulled back for another punch, but stopped when food appeared on the table and immediately shifted to pile a plate with roasted potatoes.  Dean shuffled his homework out of the way and dove into the meal as well, then noticed that Cas was still reading his Transfiguration book.

"C'mon man, you should eat somethin'.  Your turn's in like twenty minutes."

Sighing and closing the hefty hardcover, he set it down in the space next to him.  He served himself a piece of steak and a little salad, but seemed to shift the food around without putting much of it in his mouth, and still didn't speak.  He'd been silent since at least five o'clock.

"Hey Cas, what's buggin' you?" Dean searched.

"I have detention with my father, what do you think?" he retorted surprisingly rapidly, dropping his fork with a crash.

Jo raised her eyebrows but pretended to be analysing the woodgrain of the table, continuing to eat while Dean gazed at Cas in worry.  "Don't let him be a douche to you, okay?  Sure he's not exactly a bouncy house of fun, but he can't be that bad.  Anyway, he loves you, you're his son."

"Exactly.  That is why he is far more disappointed with me than either of you.  I fear that I will have lost his trust."  He let his eyes descend as he spoke, looking away from Dean, crestfallen.

"No, Cas, I'm pretty sure it takes a lot more than pranking Bela for him to stop trusting you.  You're... responsible and loyal and stuff.  He knows that, he'll forgive you."

He couldn't be certain, but he thought he glimpsed the corner of the boy's mouth twitching upward.  Giving Cas a big, hopeful grin, he made sure that twitch turned into a relieved smile.

"Thank you, Dean," he murmured.  Then, they both went back to eating, Cas finally scarfing down what he could before six.

~~~

Castiel wiped his brow and grappled with another Murtlap that squealed and whipped it's skinny tail back and forth but stopped as soon as as he started to stroke the top of its head with a thumb.  It was released into a temporary cage with the other rat-like creatures while he cleaned out their usual habitat, and his father looked up from feeding and petting Steve, the gray, speckled Hippogriff.

He had mentally prepared for reprimands before meeting the man in the Entrance Hall, but none had come.  Now he was doing the simple task of cleaning rodents' tanks while Father stood in front of the stall on the other side of the large shed, dividing his attention between his pet and his son.  Neither had said more than they had to, and the tension was tightly strung.

"I've been meanin' to ask you, Castiel," the man burst out.

Cas stopped scooping sand at once and looked up, startled at first, then nervous.   _This is it,_  he thought.

"How long've you been hangin' out with Dean Winchester?"

Well,  _that_  was not the question he anticipated at all.  He frowned.  "Since February."

"So, a month?  That's it, a month?"

"Yes."  He had not added it up until then, and it was odd; the time had felt much longer.  He supposed he had been watching Dean from a distance for a good deal of time before that, and perhaps that lengthened his perception.

"That's awful quick to be helpin' him pull tricks like that one," Bobby reflected.

"I suppose so."  He helped Dean with many things, whether or not the other boy asked for them or even noticed.  It did not seem strange; it was just the way Cas treated his friend.

"I hope you're not lettin' this boy boss you around or anything'--"

"No, of course not!" he defended.  How could his father propose such an idea?  Castiel was perfectly willing to do anything Dean asked, no one was forcing him.  "Why are you asking me about Dean?"

"I'm just wonderin', son, 'cause--"  He broke off, taking off his hat and scratching his head before replacing it.  "Well, wanna tell me... uh, what you think of him?"

What on earth was his father trying to glean?  It seemed strange that he was so interested in the boy, and more so that he was asking Cas' opinion.  What did Castiel think about Dean?  He had not specifically thought anything about Dean as far as he knew... perhaps that the boy had green eyes, legs that bowed outwards, hair that looked golden when the setting sun was shining through it, a smile that always seemed to glow in Cas' direction, a hearty laugh that he provided for all of Cas' jokes--

Alright, he seemed to have thought about Dean much more than he had realized.  "Dean is my best friend," he stated plainly, hoping that would sum it all up.

The elder Singer shrugged and sighed, "Alright, Castiel.  I was just askin'."  He shook his head and went back to brushing Steve's feathers.  "Never mind."

That had certainly been odd.  Cas decided to leave it alone.  Maintaining their silence as they went about familiar chores around the barn, it felt less like detention and more like the way they usually spent breaks from school, cleaning up and taking care of their large ranch of various magical creatures.  Rufus often visited and helped, too, but mostly in obtaining food for all the animals - the lack of his presence at this moment did not change anything.

Castiel now had the silence to ponder what his father's questions had brought to mind.  Namely, Dean.  He could mentally list a surprising number of the boy's traits: his love of pie and Quidditch, his active eyebrows and facial expressions, the various curves of his mouth, the set of his jaw as he attacked his homework, the gusto with which he ate his meals, the tender way he teased his friends, his tendency to mess with Cas' hair and comment on his tie being askew, the fact that he had given him a  _nickname_.  No one had ever given Castiel a nickname before, besides "nerd," or "stick-boy."  Being  _called_  names wasn't the same thing.  Dean was honestly the best thing in his life, and he could not imagine wanting to leave his side.

His father's inquiries bewildered him.  Surely the man did not suppose anything such as what Bela had implied before?  It would be very shocking if he did.  No, perhaps he was confused by the friendship of students from different houses; yet, that was not unheard of.  No matter how much Cas contemplated it, he could find no cause for the man's suspicion.  It would have to be deciphered later.

~~~

"How'd it go last night?"  Dean shoved half a soft-boiled egg into his mouth.

"It was very tedious," he admitted.

"The old man didn't... I don't know, rag on you or anything?"

Cas had been expecting him to do so, yet he had not.  He shook his head; "No, he didn't speak much."

"Yeah, same here.  I thought he was gonna chew me out 'til the cows came home, but he just worked my ass off instead." 

He nodded solemnly.  Dean had a tendency to use unfamiliar idioms - there was another fact that Castiel couldn't help noticing. 

There was a pause in which the boy ate a mouthful of hash browns, and when he looked back up his chewing slowed down.  Swallowing thickly, Castiel watching the muscles work in his neck, Dean recovered himself.  "What're  _you_  lookin' at?" he fake-threatened, leaning forward and raising one eyebrow mischievously.

Cas tore his eyes away.  Dean, that is what he was looking at, of course.  His bright, green eyes and infuriating, intriguing facial expression.  Cas had assumed he could handle his busy mind, but his thoughts were starting to overwhelm him.  And he was afraid.  He had found out what stalking was when Dean had almost pushed him away because of it, and he didn't want to have that happen again, fearing that he was doing another Strange Thing. 

Concern crossed Dean's face.  "What's wrong, Cas?  Did your dad say something...?"  His voice drifted off, leaving the question open to interpretation.  It could have been "something awful," or "something to upset you," or "something he shouldn't have said." 

He felt his shoulders heave up and slump down as he sighed.  He looked anywhere but Dean, because staring makes people uncomfortable, and everything he does is weird and wrong.  That was what he was told.  If he did something weird and wrong, Dean would surely become upset, as he did with the stalking, and make Castiel leave him alone. 

But Dean was different.   _He_  was staring at  _Cas_ right this very moment, patiently waiting out the battle in Castiel's mind, ready to listen.  No one had ever done that as far as he could remember.  No one had ever been his friend.  He had Tessa, yes, but she had done nothing more than eaten meals and discussed schoolwork with him.  Dean had since redefined the word "friend" in Castiel's life. 

If there was anyone he could trust to listen as he shared his problems, however strange, it was Dean. 

"My father asked me what I thought about you." 

His brow furrowed, yet Cas could not quite read his face.  "What did you say?" he asked, pronouncing his words far more carefully than usual. 

"I told him that you are my best friend."  Cas gulped, adding, "Was that accurate?" 

Dean smiled and shook his head, closing his eyes momentarily and wetting his lips.  He seemed lightened and amused, not mocking, Castiel hoped.  It was difficult to place meaning on any of his actions.  Or perhaps Cas was thinking too much again.  That was apparently the case, as Dean replied, "Of course, man.  You must be thinkin' too hard, 'cause I thought we've been best friends for a while." 

"Oh."  He did not know what else to say.  What about Jo and Ronald?  Dean had been friends with them longer, and they seemed like real friends who did things for one another... was Castiel being given the same status?

"Hey, it's cool.  It hasn't been that long, I guess... huh.  Wow, it's definitely felt like longer than a month si--"  He cut himself off, then something else seemed to tug at him.  "Anyway, just outta curiosity, why'd'ya think your old man asked you about me?"

Cas shrugged.  The same question was still burning him, but he had come no closer to an answer.

Doing the equivalent of a shrug with his lips, his friend tilted his head and granted, "He did seem pretty mad about me dragging you into the whole breakin'-the-law thing..."

"He also asked if you were pressuring me, but that is not true.  I would willingly do anything for you."

Dean looked taken aback for a moment, then grinned and flattened a hand to his chest.  "Damn, Cas.  You really just lay it out there.  You're makin' my heart all warm and fuzzy, dude."  As far as Cas could tell, the boy was being sincere but in a joking way; Dean was often such a paradox.  His fingers reached up and scratched under his collar as he continued more somberly, "And, uh, likewise, I guess.  Nobody's gonna mess with you, 'cause I got your back.  That's what best friends are for."

He couldn't help but smile in return.  Castiel was relieved now that he confided in Dean, who he should have known would not shove him away.  He could have faith in the boy after all, and he wouldn't doubt it again.   _That's what best friends are for._

~~~

Cas' spaciness that morning had worried him, but thank God Dean was such a sap and could have a Heartfelt Talk over breakfast.  It wasn't his usual thing, but Cas wasn't his usual acquaintance, either.

He had no idea the guy would have so much trouble over "best friends."  He knew Cas' first year hadn't been all that fun, no thanks to Raphael Dickbag Finnerman, so having trust issues was probably not all that unusual, but  _seriously_.  After all those hours of Quidditch practice, dragging the dude puppy-eyed through Hogsmeade, getting back at Bela, you'd think he'd know Dean was keeping him around for good!  Thank heaven they got that cleared up.

They got their books out once more and Dean looked dreamily out the window at the warm, sunny Saturday.  He was sick of the grounds being off-limits without supervision, and he missed Quidditch.  He missed watching Cas fly.  That was where the boy was in his element, but lately he seemed uncomfortable, stuck, grounded.  Maybe that had a part in this tension, too, but there was no way to test it.  He simply sighed and set his mind to Crowley's huge and awful assignment for Defense Against the Dark Arts, waiting for Jo and Ron and Tessa to wake up and get their asses to breakfast, and then for his early afternoon shift of detention round two.

And this time, Singer was way more talkative.

"So,  _Dean_ , how did you and Castiel become friends?"

The question was so sudden, yanked out of the silence that settled right after the professor instructed Dean on extracting Flobberworm mucus from their pods.  The man actually sat next to him and started to work alongside, doing the same task.  Of course he had to make the situation worse by  _talking_.

"Um," Dean stuttered, not knowing what to say at all.  What kinda question was that anyway?  "I guess, uh, we... it, um... Quidditch?"

Great.   _Real_ smooth.

"You're not on a team," the man stated, as a fact that somehow posed another question all on its own.

"Uh, no, not exactly.  We're gonna try out for our house teams though, next September."  Well, no point in keeping any secrets.

"Huh, nice of Castiel to tell me he was interested in playin' Quidditch."  There was a bitter sadness in his voice, something Dean didn't expect to hear.  It was like he wanted something that he knew was unattainable.

Dean shrugged.  "He barely got around to tellin' me either, 'til I practically said speak up or get outta my face."  He saw the man's jaw clenching out of the corner of his eye and quickly added, "He was..." God, he couldn't bring up the  _stalking_ , "sittin' around the bleachers whenever I practiced, so I, y'know, asked him what he was doin' there.  And he offered to practice with me... sorta, have someone to play against.  Make it a little more challenging, I guess."

The man scowled and stopped what he was doing.  "I can't imagine that, my son's never played Quidditch in his life."

If Dean had been eating, he would have choked.  As it was, his eyebrows skyrocketed and he scoffed, " _Seriously?_   Cas is the best flier I've ever seen!  He's gonna be the best seeker at Hogwarts since... ever!"

"Are you messin' with me, boy?"  The scowl had deepened, shadowed further by the wide brim of his hat.  "'Cause the only times he's ever been on a broomstick were for flyin' lessons in his first year.  And now you're sayin' he's gonna try out for  _seeker_ \--"

"No, sir, I'm not lyin'!" Dean defended hastily.  "He's a natural, so I guess..."  Guess what?  That he never needed the practice?  Dean was having a hard time covering his disbelief that Cas had  _actually_  gone his life without flying and still looked so comfortable up there.  "You just gotta see him, Professor.  Seein' is believin'."

There was a taught moment, a pause in which Singer's jaw worked back and forth before his gloved hands went back to the Flobberworms.  "What else hasn't Castiel told me?"

"Nothing!  I mean, I'm sure he's not keepin' anything... There's no secrets..."  Oh god, we was making a fool of himself.  He'd better say  _something_  and hope the man didn't explode.  "Um, well, y'know, since we're not even allowed outside anymore, we stopped practicing Quidditch, so now our friends... we all just sit in the Great Hall doin' homework all the time."  No professor could object to that, except for how unlikely it sounded coming from Dean; Singer looked as incredulous as could be expected.  But it was the truth!  Somehow, Cas made Dean a better man.  And, well, in return he made Cas less of a perfect little angel.   "I guess there was that day we snuck into the kitchens and the house elves made us  _two_  whole pies--"

He cut himself off at the sight of Singer's eyebrows disappearing beneath his hat.  Yeah, corrupting Castiel Singer, getting him to break a few rules, then telling his dad about it?  Good plan, genius.

"They still let you kids in there?"

"Uh..."  What?

"I'm surprised that ol' troublemaker's tradition hasn't died out.  Sneakin' stuff from the kitchens was popular back when  _I_  was a student."  The man shook his head and half-smiled, possibly reminiscing.

"Huh."  Dean tried to imagine him as a student at Hogwarts, sneaking out of the Gryffindor common room late at night to steal some butterbeer.  He couldn't shake the beard and the hat, so he ended up with a comical vision of the full-grown professor tiptoeing up to the painting of the fruit bowl and reaching up to tickle the pear.

"Believe it or not, I wasn't always this old."

He didn't snort.  Honestly, he didn't.  He exhaled involuntarily.

"But 'cause I  _am_ , I got tough bark, kid.  And a nasty bite to match.  I'm way worse than that bowtruckle that almost killed ya."

Seriously, what was with people and that bowtruckle.  "It did  _not_  almos--"

"Was it flashin' those teeth at you  _flirtatiously?_ "

Was that humor?  Was the professor teasing him just now?  Dean's smile muscles twitched without his consent at all, and he forced them back, just in case he was hearing things.  But he let out a comeback anyway, 'cause he had what he thought was a pretty good one: "Nah, I think  _you're_  more its type."

"You kiddin' me?  They always go for idjits with big, brown noses--"

"So, that definitely confirms it," he grinned.

Then Singer plopped a flobberworm on his head.

~~~

"What on Earth is in your  _hair?"_

"Your dad is crazy and I like him," Dean answered quickly.

Cas froze, still staring upward.  "What. Is in. Your hair."

"Ah, just some flobberworm mucus, it'll come out.  Hey Cas, I'm totally not on your dad's bad side like I thought."

"What?"  His fixation on Dean's hair was actually really endearing.

He went on, knowing Cas could catch up, "He was actually kind of cool and made jokes and stuff and detention might not be all that bad.  I mean, I'll still have to run around in a bunch of muck every day, but your dad doesn't hate me!"

The boy's expression slowly gained on incredulous, and he narrowed his eyes.  "He... made jokes?"

"Yeah, he's sarcastic as hell, and he dumped a flobberworm on my head!"

Cas seemed very confused as to how this was a good thing, and Dean honestly couldn't care.  He was just glad that Professor Singer didn't have a vendetta against him or his friendship with Cas.  He hadn't quite realized how afraid he was of the man's dislike until now, and was newly determined not to earn it somehow.


	4. Chapter 4

Rumor had long since spread about Bela's encounter with a swarm of spiders in the hallway and blame was being put just about everywhere out of self-defense, no one wanting to really be her enemy.  Cas, Jo, and Dean's detentions were kept on the down-low, but people were still pointing fingers.  Officially, it was a mishap due to flooding under the castle, snowmelt into the lake causing leaks into the foundations or something, driving the spiders upward where they chanced upon the poor girl.  Most of the students called bullshit and went back to their scapegoat of choice, but at least it meant the attention had little focus, besides on Bela herself.

Naturally, she was still the center of it all.  Which, of course, she enjoyed.

"Hello, boys," she trolled as she walked by them before History of Magic.

" _Keep walking_ ," Jo seethed and Dean's fist clenched.

Bela's posse, larger than usual, sent sneering glares toward the three Gryffindors and two Hufflepuffs heading to the fifth floor, their late morning classes being in the same corridor.

"You're not going to even say hello back?" the antagonizer whined.  "I'm hurt."

They continued on their determined way to their destinations, ignoring her as best they could.  As gratifying as it was to have terrorized the girl just once, this reaction was not what they'd planned.

"Didn't your  _parents_  teach you not to be rude, Winchester?"

All right,  _that_  was about all Dean could take.  Beating up a girl was not something he'd ever do, but this was Bela, and he'd been denied one too many chances to cave her face in.

Before he'd even twisted himself around to go back and do just that, Cas and Jo were grabbing his shoulders and shoving him forward in the direction they were walking, knowing exactly what he was about to do.  He supposed he was probably a little predictable by now.

"Shit, guys!  She can't talk about my parents like that!  I'm gonna freakin' kill her!"

The Slytherin girl mocked astonishment.  "Kill me?  Oh, dear!" she gasped.  "What on earth shall I do with Dean Winchester hunting me down?"  The group of followers snickered and Dean stopped in his tracks, wrestling against his friends to stand his ground and pivot to face her.  She lifted one, thin brow.  "Well, he shan't catch me... not if he's anything like his father."

"Yeah, what  _about_  my dad?" he growled.

" _Dean,_ " Cas hissed.  Dean ignored him.

She examined the state of her nails lazily.  "I wonder, when  _was_  the last time he actually  _helped_  the Bureau?  He does work for them, right?  Or does he just go gallivanting across the country in a muggle car, playing cat and mouse with his Demon friends?"

This time Ron and Tessa had to help Cas and Jo restrain him before he jumped Bela.  He kicked and pulled, but he wasn't going to win against four people.

"Alright!  Alright!  What seems to be the problem?" a slightly nasally voice came piercing down the hall.

A professor that Dean had seen only a few times before was approaching, and he immediately stilled, straightening up and avoiding the eyes of his friends.  He could hear the laughter of Bela's groupies fading, but decided to pay attention to this nastily-grinning man who spoke next.

"Well, well.  Can this be the infamous Dean Winchester... and recently newsworthy Bela Talbot?" he sneered.  The man was balding, and had such neat robes, he could pass for a muggle businessman if he wanted to.  "You do know that violent behavior is prohibited in the halls?"

This was directed at Dean, who just glared and frowned.  "Yeah," he grunted.  This guy looked and sounded like a douchebag, and Dean didn't need to be any more pissed off.

"Dean, Dean.  You'll make a habit of this before you know it."

"Probably."

"You have your father's way with words, I see."

Dean didn't even want to respond to that.  He'd prove the asshole right, but he'd be strong and silent while he was at it.

"That's what I thought."  He turned to Bela, "Perhaps this lovely lady will tell me what this is about."

"Absolutely," she spilled her words out, "I was saying hello, but he just pushed me away, so my friends came to help, but he just went mad, and he really needs to control his anger."

"What?!  You were being annoying and I  _ignored_  you, so then you went and said shit about my  _parents_ , and you're a lying bitch."

"Oh, just listen to all that swearing!  You know, I think I ought to take you to the Headmaster, Dean, but I won't because he's... too nice."

"Wow, I'm really scared stiff, sir."

"Sarcasm, Dean?  Do you really think that's appropriate, given your situation?"

"This is nuts, I didn't even touch her!"

"Yet you've caused quite a disturbance... that, the language, and talking back to me are gonna get you detention if you're not careful--"

"Goddammit, that's the  _last_  thing I need--"

"And how about twenty-five points from Gryffindor?"

"Twenty-five?!" Dean exclaimed.  The words were mouthed by nearly all the other Gryffindors in the hallway as well, shocked that it was so many for a first-time offense of talking back to this particular professor.

"Yes, twenty-five.  That's if I'm nice and don't make it forty.  Meet me at four o'clock in my office as well."

That was when he had detention with Professor Singer, how was he supposed to work around that?  "I can't," he stated simply.

"You  _can't?_   Don't you all get out of class at four?  What else could be so important--"

Dean mumbled something about Bowtruckles and Hippogriffs, but did not want to admit where he actually needed to be.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"I have another detntrn..." he tried to force out, clenching his teeth.

"Your enunciation is astounding, Winchester.  Come again."

"I have another detention, okay?!  It's with Professor Singer, just go talk to him, but that's at four.  So... pick some other time!"

"My goodness,  _another_ detention?  Dean, Dean.  What'll we do with you?"

"Is there a problem, Zachariah?"

The man's head snapped up at the newcomer's gentle, husky voice, that of Professor Joshua Gardner.  He taught Herbology, and wasn't bad.  Cas practically raved about him, but Dean didn't care enough about the subject to have an opinion either way.

Dean turned around, just glad to have a reason not to look at the other professor's sneering, ugly face.  Gardner nodded to acknowledge Dean, which surprised him and certainly made him respect the guy, then turned his calm face to Zachariah.

The less likeable one went first.  "Can you see I'm taking care of something?"

"'Taking care of it' is not the phrase I would use," the silver-bearded man pronounced.

"Alright then, let me just finish this--"

"You can do that later.  Besides, it is time to start your class.  They appear to be waiting very patiently."

All the students for both of the classes in that hallway were standing there, witnessing the scene.  Zachariah actually seemed a little ashamed to be watched by all those people - his eyes darted around at each of the faces.

"I am going to see the Headmaster, if you have anything you'd like to tell him?"  Gardner gave him a too-polite smile.

"Oh!  No, no, I'm good.  Little monkey isn't worth sending up, so I'll... I'll just go start my class."

"Good.  Have a nice day," he calmly waved at Zachariah's now-turned back.  His eyes turned back on Dean, to whom he gave a slow, acknowledging nod before walking away toward Shurley's office.

Dean had the strange sensation that he had just been x-rayed and filed away for later use, but shook off the shiver in his spine.

The students around them were now shuffling into their respective rooms and Bela was long gone, but as the scene was winding down, Dean was still a little irked, staring at the doorway to Zachariah's classroom.

"Did you even know that guy?!  Who was that, anyway?"

"That was Zachariah Adler, professor of Arithmancy," Cas answered him.  The others were already moving away.

"What a-- wait, isn't Arithmancy your next class?"

"Yes."

"Shit.  I'm sorry."  Dean sighed and clapped a hand to his forehead.  He probably just ruined Cas' next hour and a half by putting his professor in such a bad mood.

"The subject is very interesting, but I have trouble... Professor Adler and I do not often agree."  Cas' voice sounded tight, like he was restraining from punching the guy as much as Dean was.  That made him feel a little better.

"I'd be surprised there's a professor who isn't best buddies with you, but after meeting that son of a bitch--"

"Dean, you are late for class, as am I."

Dammit, he was right.  Dean sighed again and waved.  "See ya."

~~~

It had been a week.  Finally, it was his last day of detention with Bobby and the last day before Easter break... but he still hadn't heard again from Jim or Sam.  He was thinking about sending them a discreet letter of some kind when the morning post came flying through the windows and a Better Homes magazine was dropped onto his head.

The front cover depicted a fireplace with an over-sized, green marble mantelpiece and a hearth big enough to fit a couple of people if they sat down on the grate side by side.  Fireplaces are supposed to hold little logs of wood, not  _people_.  It was a bit ridiculous, but Dean was really just wondering why a muggle subscription was sent to him via owl.  He turned it over, and the whole backside was covered in black block-writing that he was pretty sure was in sharpie, "HAPPY APRIL FOOL'S! LOVE, JIM".

Well, one day late, but he'd let it slide.  That was probably to get it past the F.B.M.'s screenings, and there might be another message inside.  At least, that's what he hoped.  Dean skimmed through the pages, searching in every crack and fold, but it didn't look like anything else was inside.  He turned back to the front and squinted stubbornly at that ugly fireplace, hoping to reveal its secrets.

"What's that?"

He looked up to find Jo slotting her feet between the bench and table to sit opposite him and Cas.  The other boy was buried in his Ancient Runes book and hadn't noticed the magazine, only now looking up at Dean.

"It's a muggle magazine," Dean explained.

"Why?" Cas asked rather bluntly.

He turned it over in his hands again.  "I have no idea."

Jo reached across and took it from him without even asking, and started rotating it around in her own hands.

"Hey, do you mi--"

"Shh."

"What the hell, Jo?"

"This isn't from Jim."

He glared at her furiously.  "What makes you say th--"

"It's written in block letters, meant to be indistinguishable.  I think this is from your dad," she rattled off quickly and quietly.

Both Cas and Dean's eyes widened, and Dean grabbed the magazine out of Jo's hands, staring at it intensely.  "How can you tell?" he questioned.

She snatched it back with an exasperated huff and whispered, "If Jim left him a message that you wanted to talk to him, and he got that message, how else do you think he'd contact you?  To get it past the Bureau he'd have to make it look inconsequential, like an April Fool's prank.  Just some muggle thing as a joke.  And your dad is undercover around muggles all the time, so it'd be easy for him to get his hands on something like this."

"But how--"

"And look."  Jo pointed at the front cover.  "A fireplace, like the floo network.  There could be a message in here somewhere about a time he's gonna contact you..."

Ron showed up at the perfect time, sitting next to Jo.  "A secret message?  What kind of secret message?  Dean, are you joining a group of conspirators?"

"No!" he defended.  Jo started flipping through the book as Dean had already done, so he stopped her, insisting, "There's nothing in there, I already checked."

"Did you look hard enough?"

That earned her a scathing glare.  "Yes, of course I--"

"Wait!" she gasped, staring at the front cover again.

"What?!" he yawped.

She flashed him a sour look and continued, "There's an article related to the front cover.  It'd be a good place to start looking."

Could there seriously be a message from his dad in there?  Cas put a hand on his arm to remind him to take a deep breath.  He exhaled slowly.  "Well then, let's start," he urged.

"Looking for what?  What are you guys up to this time, what even is that?  How do you know it's not poisoned?" Ron quested.

"It is not poisoned," Cas intervened.

"You don't know that!"

"It went through screening, they would have detected it," Jo muttered.  She looked again at the cover and mouthed a number before flipping pages to the article.  She flattened out the booklet on the table in front of her and started scanning each line.  Dean couldn't tell if she was reading it or giving it an MRI, but after a few minutes he got kind of impatient.

"Maybe I can give it a--"

"Eat your breakfast," she ordered, still looking down at the paper, clearly focused.

"Well, have you fou--"

"Found it!" she interjected.

"Found what?  Found what?" Ron pried.  He and Dean leaned forward trying to see the spot she was tracing with a finger.

She bit her tongue between her teeth and Dean felt Cas shift beside him, peering at the lines as well.  Jo tapped her finger at the spot and said, "This part isn't the original print.  He put something to mask the words that were there, and wrote in different ones.  It's all by hand, not by magic, maybe so it wouldn't leave traces that wizards would look for... oh, that's clever..."

"What?  What is it?" Dean persisted when her voice trailed off.

"The part that's changed," she described, "it says, 'Our stone chimney blocks sell at twenty-two dollars each, parentheses item zero four dash zero nine.'"

Ron interjected, "Ooh!"

"Um... okay."  Dean raised his hands in question.  "What's it mean?"

"Well, I'm not... entirely sure..."

"You mean you don't know."

"Dean," Cas murmured from beside him.  He was doing that a lot lately, saying his name, trying to calm him down.

"It won't be that hard to figure out!" Jo disputed, not hearing Cas.

"Okay, okay," he ceded, sitting back on the bench.  "You just keep... doin' what you're doin'."

She squinted, first at him, then at Cas who had discreetly gone back to reading his Ancient Runes book.  But she shook her head and began trying to decipher the coded message, whatever it was.

She held onto that magazine all day and kept secretly pulling it out during classes to look at it, like it was some personal mission.  She was hunting down the answer and wouldn't stop until she got it, being her stubborn self.  After dinner and after sitting with it in the common room for at least an hour she cried, "AHA!"

It startled everyone in the room, which had been quiet save for the crackling of the fire due to pretty much every 5th year Gryffindor poring over homework and study sheets, which they'd also be doing all Spring Break.

Jo cleared her throat.  "... Sorry."

She straightened her robes and sat back down, having leaped out of her chair when she yelled.  Dean's questioning look was cue for her to lean in and start explaining, "I realized what it was because of the twenty-two dollars part--"

"Just skip to what it means!" Dean snapped.  "What's it saying?"

She gave him a harsh glare not unlike her mother's and answered, "April ninth, ten o'clock, Shurley's office."

"Does it  _say_  his office? Same fireplace as before?"

"Dean, there's only one in the entire school that's connected to the floo network, there's nowhere else it can be."

He swallowed.  He had a date and time, and it was in seven days.  He only had to wait seven days, then he could talk to his dad.  This was revolutionary news.

"How'd you figure all that out?" Ron asked.

She gave Dean a haughty look that said,  _At least_  someone  _seems to be interested, someone who's not a jerk._ But to Ron she expounded, "I just had to stare at it long enough.  It was only the numbers that were important, see?  The twenty-two dollars is like twenty-two hundred hours, like military time.  That means ten p.m.  And once I saw that, these other numbers were obviously a date.  It was way simpler than I thought, I had to stop over-thinking it."

Ron looked amazed, and Dean just ground his teeth together.  "Yeah, we all know Jo is super-freakin'-smart, she figured out the whole thing, good for her."

"Why are you acting like such a dick?" Jo stabbed.  "No 'thank you'?  I just solved the puzzle that your dad sent so  _you_  could talk to him and you're throwing a freaking temper tantrum."

"No I'm not!  And anyway I could've solved the freakin' puzzle myself!" he yelled back, but bit his lip as soon as he said it.  Jo was practically steaming and he'd caused that by being a total prick.  He remembered Cas calming him down all the time, and wondered why that was becoming a common occurrence.

Jo shoved the magazine into his chest and smacked him across the head, rightfully so, and stormed up to the girl's dormitory, while half the common room gave Dean dirty looks.

Ron looked hurt and frowned at Dean.  "We're your friends.  So don't be a dick."  And he left as well.

Dean didn't feel like remaining in the public eye of half of Gryffindor house, so he followed Ron up the stairs, closing the curtains to his four-poster when he got to it.  He sprawled out on his back and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to remember when it started.  Or when it worsened.

It was these stupid Demons and stupid Bela and the stupid Bureau for making everything so difficult.  Not to mention not being able to play Quidditch for the rest of the year.

But something else was nagging him.  Making him do and say things that he normally wouldn't.  Stressing him the fuck out.

Dammit, he was scared to talk to his dad.

John was... he didn't even know.  Dean barely knew him, and he was nervous about it.  About bringing up things that he wasn't allowed to talk about when John made his rare visits.  About the Demons.

He was lost and afraid, and the thought of his dad wasn't making it better.  There was something inherently wrong about that.

~~~

Everyone except the 5th years left on the train the next morning, and Dean slept through it.  He had planned to stay at school for break and all, but it would have been nice to say goodbye to his friends and apologize for being a dick.

With a sigh, he rolled over and went back to sleep.

~~~

None of his other friends stayed except Cas.  He was okay with that, but it would have been nice if they were allowed outside.  As it was, things were extremely boring.

Thanks to Cas' pushing, he got all of his homework done in the first two days, and after that, there was nothing to do except roam around the castle.  Cas liked talking to the portraits, learning things about their pasts or things they've seen in the castle.  Dean had to admit it was sometimes kind of interesting, but even more interesting was the art of creeping up behind the distracted kid and blowing on the back of his neck.  He'd jump a foot into the air and squirm and squawk and it was the funniest thing Dean had ever witnessed.

He discovered it on accident the second day of break, when Cas finally stopped wearing his huge black and yellow-striped scarf for the season, a breeze brushed by and he shivered way more violently than anyone should.  It just went downhill from there.

Dean grinned and Cas swatted at him, so Dean tried to go for another shot but Cas ducked and ran down the corridor.  Dean chased him and was reminded again of Quidditch and how much better it would be to chase him around on a broom.  Near the turn at the end, Cas doubled back and slipped past Dean and they ran the other way until Cas did it again.

And that was when a door appeared.

Wandering around the castle aimlessly had its rewards.

They stopped, panting a little, and stared up at the arches.  They exchanged glances and shrugged as though to say, "It wasn't me."  Then, since there didn't seem to be a reason not to, they each took a door handle and opened it.

They stepped onto a wide field, surrounded by trees.  Goal posts dotted either end and there were two rather nice flying brooms lying right at their feet.

How this could be inside the castle and no one knew about it, Dean was baffled, but there was no sense in wasting it.  He and Cas commanded each of their brooms, "Up!" and off they went.

"Ugh, I'm starving," Dean groaned as they lay on the field, tops of their heads touching, after a long game.

"Me, too."

Dean had a splendid idea and suggested, "We should go to the kitchens, see if they have any pie."

Out of the blue, Cas asked, "Do you think House Elves should be paid?  Given rights?"

"What?"

"Nevermind," he mumbled.

"Sorry man, I didn't-- you just caught me off-guard.  What were you tryin' to say?"

He gave a tiny sigh and expounded, "House Elves, they're basically slaves.  That doesn't seem right."

"Yeah, that... I hear ya.  But Cas, they don't wanna  _not_  be slaves.  I heard, like, their  _worst_  fear is being set free, y'know?  What if it's what they want?"

"Do they know anything else?"

Damn, he had a point there.  "I guess not."

"Witches and wizards don't seem to appreciate the freedom they have, while other intelligent creatures are suppressed.  Do you not see this also?"

"Yeah, I get you."  Dean laughed a little, tried to lighten the air, "I mean, I wouldn't exactly call all of them  _intelligent_ per se..."

"I could say the same about you," Cas said, voice serious.

It was that same serious voice that never failed to hit Dean right in the funny bone and he had to roll onto his side and curl up with laughter.  He wiped his eyes and breathed, "I dunno what it is, but that thing you do gets me every time."

"What thing?   _This_  thing?" he interrogated as he turned over to his hands and knees and attacked Dean's sides with his fingers.

"Ha!  No!  Cas!  Stop!  Haha, Cas, seriously stop it!  Cas!"

His fingers froze and his blue eyes stared down into Dean's.  "Yes, Dean?" he inquired.

"Truce?" he pleaded.

"Only if you stop breathing on my neck all the time."

Dean sighed; he was going to miss that. Oh well, Cas only said stop breathing on his neck.  There were many, many loopholes around that.  "Okay, truce."

Cas grinned, something he must have learned from Dean but it looked kinda creepy on him, and tickled Dean one last time before pulling his hands away.

Dean scowled and sat up.  "Should I consider the truce already broken, or--"

"I hadn't agreed yet.  But now I have.  Truce."  That was one wicked expression.

"You sneaky bastard."

They stood up and shook hands on it, then headed out, leaving their brooms on the ground where they found them.

"How we gonna find this place again?" Dean wondered.

"How did we find it in the first place?"

That was a good question.  Dean shrugged.  "We were running back and forth and I guess I thought about Quidditch."

"I think we crossed in front of the doorway three times when you were chasing me."

"Might have somethin' to do with it?"

"Most likely."

"Well, here's to bein' hopeful," Dean remarked and led the way out.

The door disappeared when it closed behind them and Dean took note of where it was... across the hall from a tapestry of some wizard trying to teach trolls ballet.

"Barnabas the Barmy?" Cas noted inquisitively.

"Seventh floor corridor."  Dean nodded.

"Alright.  To the kitchens?"

"To the kitchens."

~~~

April 9th was getting closer faster than it should have.  There were two days left, and Dean needed a plan.

With everyone gone, all he had was Cas, and all his possible plans to infiltrate Shurley's office just didn't have the juice.  No offense to Cas.  There just didn't seem to be a way in, or a way to get the Headmaster out.

Later at night, after curfew, he sat in bed with a roll of parchment and a quill, trying to sketch out some ideas.  He'd drawn a misshapen oval containing something that resembled a fireplace and a stick figure representing Shurley, with himself standing outside it.  Cas was hovering above the oval for some reason, which didn't add up because the Headmaster's office was a tower, so to make it plausible he'd attempted to draw Cas on a broomstick.  That was a bad idea.

And he had nowhere to go from there.

That's when an owl tapped on the window.

Dean let it in to drop off the small scroll it carried, then it promptly flew away again.  After closing the glass to keep out the residual chill from early spring, he cracked the Hogwarts seal, a smaller version than on most official letters, and opened it up.   _Why_  an official school note was sent to him, he was both frightened and curious.

_Dear Mr. Dean Winchester,_

_Could you visit my office tomorrow afternoon at 3 o'clock?_

_Thanks,_

_Headmaster Shurley_

Oh, shit.

He stared at it.  Read it again.  Turned it over four times.  Read it again.  Tried to glean some extra meaning, a hint as to why the Headmaster was asking him to go to his office the next day.  It absolutely could not be good.

He panicked.  He was going to be expelled.  He was going to be sent to Azkaban.  His father would be made an officially wanted man by the Bureau because of his son's actions.  Sammy would never be allowed to go to Hogwarts.  Cas would have no one to practice Quidditch with.  He'd never see anyone he knew ever again.

No, wait.  He had to calm down.  He had to keep his cool, then find out what this was about when he actually went to talk to Shurley the next day.  Besides, this meeting could wait a whole day?  It couldn't be  _that_  urgent.

Well... it could still be bad.

Nervous jittering kept him from going to sleep, and there was little else for him to do.  He couldn't focus on anything that could have otherwise occupied him, not his books, not his photo album filled with pictures of his mom that had a bunch of Sam's drawings folded and tucked in the back, not the Legos his Dad sent him five Christmases ago that he wouldn't admit he kept at the bottom of his trunk.  He tiptoed down to the common room in hopes he could sneak out and wander the castle to alleviate the anxiousness, but there were  _still_  three 5th-year students studying by the fire, two of whom were the Gryffindor prefects.  He'd never get through the portrait hole right in front of them.

He plunked back into bed and stared at the ceiling, hopelessly wishing for a miracle.

~~~

"Dean, calm down--"

"I  _am_  calmed down!"   _No you're not, you're hyperventilating,_  he pointed out to himself.

" _Dean,_ " Cas repeated firmly, placing his hands on Dean's shoulders.  "You need breakfast."

He sucked in a lungful of air and blew it out slowly, as evenly as he could manage.  Nodding at Cas, he let himself be led into the Great Hall and pushed into a seat next to him.

Cas served him and ordered, "Eat.   _Then_  explain why you think you're being sent to Azkaban."

Dean nodded again and cut into his toast with sausage, an egg, and gravy on top.  He took three bites before taking a deep breath and delving in from the beginning.  "Got a letter last night, from Shurley.  He wants to meet me in his office.  Today.  Afternoon.  Oh God, Cas, I gotta be in huge trouble I mean what if Sam never gets to--"

"Shh, shh, I'm sure everything will be fine, Dean.  Finish eating first."

He did as Cas told and washed it down by chugging a whole goblet of apple juice.

"Do you have the letter?"

Dean pulled it out of his robes and handed it over.

When Cas gave it a look, he sighed, "Dean, there is nothing to suggest that punishment is in order, and I believe you are reading into this."

"You're  _supposed_  to do that when you're called to the Headmaster's office!  Like, they expect you to try and figure out why you're in trouble, that's how it works in movies!"

"From what you have told me about movies, Dean, they sound very little like the physical world.  I would not use them as a basis for assumption," he advised, eyebrows raised, handing back the parchment.

Instead of taking it, Dean pushed his plate forward with his forearms and flopped his head down, table muffling his voice as he moaned, "Then what am I supposed to assume?"

Cas' hand came up to pat him on the shoulder.  "That Headmaster Shurley simply wishes to speak to you, and whatever it is about should not make you nervous.  Though it is natural to fear the unknown, we sometimes must accept it."

Dean lifted up his head slightly, then let it fall back down with an  _"Ugh,"_  repeatedly banging his head against his arms.  At this new development, Cas grabbed both of Dean's shoulders and with surprising strength pulled them so he was sitting up.

"That will not help, Dean.  You must simply wait."

~~~

"Waiting sucks!"

"It is only ten o'clock, Dean."

"Seriously?!"

~~~

"C'mon, it's gotta be something bad, it's never something good.  Good things just don't happen!"

"Yes they do."

"Name one thing!"

"We did become friends."

Dean looked over at Cas with surprise.

The boy shrugged.

One of the portraits smiled at them.  "Friendship is a powerful thing.  You'd be quite surprised."

"Alright, girl talk's over," Dean declared, screwing up his face.

~~~

Dean rubbed a hand over his eyes.  "Is it three o'clock yet?"

"Almost."

"What?!" Dean shrieked and sat up instantly, hands clawing at the grass.

"About a quarter 'til," Cas detailed, checking his watch.

Dean balked, "Do you know what that means?!"

"Yes."

"I am gonna be in so much trouble, Cas, I swear!"

"I assume you make such a conclusion based on your previous record, but you cannot always count on that--“ 

"But Cas, what else could it possibly be?!  I break rules!  Like, all the time!  It's practically my M.O.!" he cried, throwing his hands in the air.

Cas' lips twitched with a smirk, and Dean wanted to smack him for almost laughing at a time like this.

He fell back into the grass again and spread out his limbs in surrender.  "C'mon, my life is probably over after this, it's done for!" he whined.

This time one of Cas' eyebrows went up.  "Dean, perhaps you should pull yourself together before going to see him."

Dean let out a stream of curses.

~~~

"Uh..."  Dean stared at the gargoyle statue, unable to remember the password from last time.

Thankfully, it moved aside and down the staircase came Shurley, greeting him, "Hi.  Dean.  Um, come on up."

He swallowed to fight the lump in his throat and followed the Headmaster to his office where they sat on respective sides of the desk.  This was going to be worse than he could possibly imagine, there was no way he'd make it out ali--

"I know about the conversation you had with your brother and your guardian in here."

_Time to fucking panic._

Dean lost whatever sanity he had and couldn't say a word.  Shurley went on, "The portraits of the other headmasters, see they... well, these wall have eyes, pretty much.  _Woah,_  woah, hey."  He leaned over the desk and stopped Dean from falling out of his chair, patting him on the shoulder.  "Breathe, kid.  You had me scared for a second."

"What're they gonna do to me?" Dean croaked.

"Wha-- 'they'?  There's no..."  He cleared his throat.  "Look, you did break some rules.  But, ah, I'm not punishing you."   _Huh?_   "From what I hear, you've alreadybeen punished and, I guess, y'know, it was enough.  I wanted to talk to you 'cause actually, I wanna know if you heard back from them yet."

Dean's mouth hung open.  This wasn't... he wasn't...  _that's it?_ "Wait, seriously?"

"Yeah.  Seriously," the man repeated, nodding his slightly shaggy head.

"You don't... I'm not... expelled?"

"What?  No, I'm not-- that'd be preposterous.  I'm looking out for you and your brother, actually."

"Why?" Dean demanded instantly.

He sighed.  "As a promise to your dad.  Which... I wasn't supposed to tell you, but that's his problem."

 _Woah, am I hearing this right?  Did Dad... really?_ "Wait, my dad asked you to... why?!  All of a sudden you tell me you talk to him behind everyone's backs?  That he's in contact with  _you?!"_

"Not exactly, no, he's... still pretty out of touch, Dean.  It was--trust me, it was a long time ago."  Shurley ran both his hands through his hair.  "If you haven't heard back from Jim yet, you could just say so.  That... is... why I brought you here."

Dean blinked.  "Oh, uh... no--yes.  I got something from my dad... I think."

"Seriously?"

That deserved another blink.  "Uh, yeah.  It... he sent a magazine with some kinda Secret Service coded message type thing.  Just: fireplace, ten o'clock, April ninth.  I don't actually know if it's from him."

"Ah," the Headmaster made a sympathetic face and nodded.  "Your dad, he can be tricky.  But the ninth?  That's tomorrow."

Staring at the floor, he coughed lightly.  "Yeah."

"Good thing I sent you that note when I did, huh?"  He laughed nervously a little, and stopped when Dean only stared at him.  "Well, whatever you were planning to do is... kinda pointless now, 'cause you can come in and use my fireplace.  No need to break any rules this time, heh."

Dean wasn't sure now if he could count the number of times he'd been struck silent today on one hand.

The  _Headmaster_  just offered him  _permission_  to sneak around the law  _again_  and completely get away with it.  Well, so it seemed.  He grew suspicious.  "And I... won't get in trouble?  What about the Bureau?  And won't they get mad at you, too?"

"Yeah, well sometimes you just gotta say screw the Bureau."

Dean's eyes barely stopped short of popping out of his head.  After some incomprehensible babble he managed, "You--you... you'll actually  _help_  me?"

~~~

"What's the matter?"

Dean shifted from foot to foot, eyeing the fire.  "Nothing."

"Are you nervous to talk to your dad?" Shurley asked, naturally pinpointing Dean's exact problem.

"No, of course not!  He's my dad, why would I be--"  His voice stopped short.  He breathed.

"Your pacing says otherwise."

Would it help if Cas were here?  No, not really.  It would help if his dad could just come in person.  Or maybe it wouldn't.  He wanted to talk to the guy so badly and for so long, he didn't know what to think now that it was actually about to happen.  If his dad came through.

He had to admit, that was one of his worries.

"Maybe you should sit down, just wait for him to show.  Y'know?"

Dean stopped pacing, nodded, swallowed, started to say, "Yeah, maybe I should..."

And then the fire blazed green and a rough, bearded face appeared.  "Dean?" it called.

"Dad!" Dean cried, rushing to the hearth and kneeling down in front of it to be level with the man's eyes.

They crinkled as he smiled.  "Hey, son.  Good to see you.  You and your brother okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine, Dad," he spoke in a hurry, "Or, I talked to Sam a couple weeks ago and he was okay--Dad, where are you? What's goin' on?"

Glancing away as he shook his head, John answered, "Sorry, kiddo, I can't tell you that."

Dean persisted, "Well, why'd they come to Hogwarts, what's their plan?!"   _Are they after Sam?!  What does it mean?!  You have to know!_ His eyes searched his father's face.

"I don't know, son."

That  _couldn't_  be true.  "Are you nearby?  Are the demons really close to Hogwarts?" he pressed on.

"Dean, I can't--" he paused and sucked in a breath.  "There are plenty of other aurors posted all over your school, let them protect it.  Look, I don't have much time for this, and it's not safe."

Oh.

"Look, I know this is hard to understand, you're just gonna have to trust me on this.  Look after your brother and stay out of trouble, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"It was good to see you, Dean."

"You too, Dad."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

The man gave him one last, small smile before disappearing.  The flame turned again to its usual orange and yellow hues, and Dean was left without any answers.

"That was... quick," Shurley commented.

Dean gritted his teeth.  "He's probably busy."

The Headmaster put a hand on his shoulder and Dean stood, rubbing his face.  He looked up at Shurley who looked back with concern.

"Thanks for... the fireplace," he mumbled lamely.

"Sure thing, Dean."

He nodded slowly and walked out.

~~~

"It would seem he did not have the answers you were looking for.  I'm sorry, Dean."

"Cas, it ain't your fault," he sighed, running a hand through his hair then letting it fall back into the grass.  "Man, I just wanna know what's happening for once.  I'm sick of sitting and waiting all the time when anything could be happening out there!  I feel like I should do something about it, even though I don't know what."

"I know the feeling."

"Do you?" he sat up and demanded, probably too harshly.

But Cas remained unruffled, turning on his side and raising concerned eyebrows.  "Yes, Dean.  I think everyone does."

"Okay, but nobody actually has the guts to get off their asses!" he yelled, thinking he should really stop getting himself riled up.  This wouldn't end well, and yet he couldn't get his mouth to shut up.  "I wanna... I wanna get out there and kill those sons of bitches!"

"Dean--"

"So WHAT if I'm fourteen?!  I'll be the youngest auror there ever was!  I'll--"

"Dean," Cas soothed,  _still_  calm -  _God, how is he doing that?_   "Pardon me, but you're hardly prepared to kill anyone.  And... it wouldn't be right if you were."

He knew Cas was right but couldn't stop his stupid brain from arguing, " _Somebody's_  gotta be!  And obviously my dad--"  He choked on his words then, couldn't finish the sentence because tears were streaming down his face and he had to look away from Cas.  He hated crying, it was emotional and stupid.

"Dean," the boy whispered, the sound closer than before, and a hand squeezed his shoulder.

 _He sure says my name a lot,_  Dean thought, mind going off-track.  Still turned away, he pulled his knees up and folded his arms over them, burying his face in the crook of an elbow.

There was a pause in which Dean sniffed, then he felt Cas sit next to him and adjust so he could put his arms around Dean's shoulders.  He wanted to object, tell Cas "geroffme" and slump away someplace where he could hit things, because this was more embarrassing than singlehandedly losing thirty-five house points in one day, but damned if he could even move a muscle.

They stayed like that it seemed indefinitely, Cas' head resting on Dean's nearest shoulder, right arm slung around the far one, and Dean's gradually easing breath.  It hadn't been that terrible as far as crying goes - there were no shudders and gasps, just tears and snot and a resulting dull headache.  The automatic part of his brain thought it was a little bit girly to be hugged and comforted by his best friend, but that didn't seem very accurate.  This was Cas, anyway.  Somewhere along the line they'd established mutual trust, and this didn't actually cross either of their boundaries.  And to Dean's surprise, that was okay.


	5. Chapter 5

Classes started back up sooner than expected, and it seemed the year was already almost over.  Leading up to finals Dean tried not to dwell on what his father did or didn't know about the Demons' latest movements, focusing on schoolwork and finding relief in being able to practice Quidditch with Cas once again.

For a short while their friends had been very curious, possibly suspicious, wondering where they were running off to, spending only half as much time in the Great Hall as before.  They'd exchanged glances and silently agreed they could keep the hidden room secret from the others no longer.  It was strange; when they brought Jo and Ron and Tessa with them, there were five brooms instead of two, and the grass seemed far more soft and buoyant.  They noted the changes with an array of shrugs, though each was pondering how many uses this room could have, if it could take several forms.

"We should call it the Magical Mystery Room," Ron suggested.

"Do we really have to name it?" Jo quarreled.

Tessa looked around and nodded.  "It does usually help."

"Wait, wait, I have an idea," Ron proposed, "We should have a secret code name like, 'The Island of Refuge'!"  With the statement of his title, he spread his hands as though he could see the letters written in the air in front of him.

"'The Island of Refuge?'" Jo mocked.

"What?  Or, like... 'the Heavenly Sanctuary'," he offered with dreamy eyes.  He looked back down from his imaginary signs to nod enthusiastically at them all, but they were simply staring, Jo with one eyebrow raised.

She clearly had the most logical mind.  "How about we just call it 'The Base'?  It's less conspicuous, attracts less attention."

"Oh, and then we can use it as a base of operations, too!" Tessa concurred.  "Wanna bet this room can be pretty much anything?"

With that they went outside, let the door disappear, and Tessa took a turn pacing in front of it three times.

This time when the door opened there was a medium-sized, well-lit room decorated with intermingled banners for Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.  There were well-cushioned couches each with side-tables, and the walls had shelves with spellbooks and blank parchment and spare quills - they'd probably never need to buy school supplies again.  Off to the side, there was also a circular table surrounded by five chairs with room enough for all of them to spread out and do their homework.  It was the perfect common room, complete with fireplace and large windows looking out over the lake.

Dean let out a low whistle.  "Damn."

"No more long hours in the drafty hall on wooden benches?  I dig it," Jo approved.

And that became their new, well, Base.  Nothing much changed, only that they had to work around Dean and Cas' practices for the room's given purpose at any time.  They were only slightly worried that they might be constantly abusing their privileges with it during all the hours that they could before curfew (which they broke once, having lost track of time, and hadn't broken since).

Not to mention how fun it was to say, "You headin' back to Base?"

It was certainly a development that Dean liked.

~~~

And just like that, it was time to go home.

Well, okay, finals had been grueling and horrible because of the added classes for third years, but the term itself was practically over in a flash.  Before Dean even realized two weeks of June had passed, he was packing and getting on the train.

"So what are all your summer plans?" Tessa asked the cabin compartment in general.

Jo bit off the leg of a chocolate frog.  "Avoid my mom, avoid summer homework, practice throwing knives I think."

Eyebrows went up all around.

"What?" she challenged, "Unless you guys can think of something better to do at that stupid Roadhouse."

"I think it's cool," Dean provided input.  He'd been there once before, on an educational road trip with his dad before he even came to Hogwarts.  That was when he first met Jo, though they'd been shy nine-year-olds at the time.  It wasn't until the first ride on the Hogwarts Express that they actually got to talking and bickering and eventually became friends due to the fact that they never stopped.

Jo throwing knives was not a difficult thing for Dean to picture for this reason.  The Roadhouse had its rougher sort of crowd, wizards with black hoods and well-kept secrets.  It wasn't a place for outlaws or black-market trade, but for the hunters and trackers and anyone else who did the dirty work for the good cause; keeping tabs on Demons required a fair amount of stealth and duplicity.  It was through that visit to the Roadhouse that Dean discovered that his dad wasn't the only one who hunted the evil sons of bitches down under the table.  If it wasn't for Dean's own stupidity, everyone at Hogwarts would know as little about John Winchester as they knew about any of the others.

At any rate, Jo threw Dean a disbelieving eye.  "Yeah, well, you don't have to live there."

"You may have a point," he acceded.

"What's the Roadhouse?" Tessa asked.

Jo rolled her eyes, crossed her arms, and slumped in her seat.  "It's the place my mom opened up back before she started teaching.  Now she has this guy Ash run the place when she's gone - he's some crazy genius graduated from Hogwarts, like, ages ago."

"Oh, I've heard of him!" Tessa declared.  "Ash Miles?  I heard there wasn't a single part of the castle he didn't know like the back of his hand and he invented new spells, even  _while_  he was a student.  He had to be  _super_  smart.  Then he stormed out during exams his seventh year, didn't even finish school.  Everybody wondered what happened to him, why he wasn't world famous already."

"Oh yeah, he's  _some_  guy."

Tessa seemed concerned.  "Wouldn't it be cool to meet a genius, though?"

"He smells like Coors Light, wears a mullet, and spends all day messing with muggle computers doing who-knows-what," Jo rattled off her list of his personal offenses.

"Is he an  _evil_ genius?" Ron tested.

"I... don't think so."

"So he  _could_  be."

"Well, if he is, he's not doing a very good job with the 'evil' part."

"They can always hide it," he argued.

She let out an exasperated huff and rerouted the discussion, "What about your summer, Ron?  Anything interesting happening?"

And that sent him into a long-winded story about evil androids and world takeover that would go on forever if they let him.  Dean nudged Cas with his elbow and conversed to the side, "Remember when I asked if you could come over this summer?"

"Yes... are you still suggesting it?"

Dean hoped that was a spark of excitement in Cas' eyes when they looked up at him.  "It would be awesome if you could.  I mean, we can try to make it work, right?"

His eyes shifted to the side and seemed to contemplate.  "Possibly.  It depends on our fathers, I believe."

Dean shrugged.  "My dad doesn't have to know..."

"But mine does," Cas stated pointedly.

"True," Dean conceded, tilting his head.  "But he likes me!  He won't admit it, but I'm totally his new favorite."

"You started to do well in his class because you improved so much through  _detention_.  I'm not sure that counts, Dean."

"Yes, it does!"

That damn eyebrow.  Cas was far too good at looking skeptical.

The corner of Dean's mouth twitched.  "Anyway, all you gotta do is ask him.  No harm in trying?"

Cas bit his lip and looked down at his knees.  "Yes, perhaps I will try."

 _Wait, one second he's excited, then he's hesitant?_   "Do you  _want_  to come visit for summer, or am I dragging you int--"

"Of course I want to!  Dean."  There went Cas again, giving that sad smile, saying his name like an entire sentence.

"You'll try?"

"Yes, I'll try.  I shall  _insist,_ " he corrected with a small laugh. 

"Alright," Dean grinned and reached for a cauldron cake.

~~~

"Sammy!" Dean shouted.

A small head of floppy brown hair bobbed through the crowd until it was close enough for Dean to see the huge smile on his face.  "Dean!" he called back.

Dean let Cas stay back at the baggage car while he rushed over to Sam and pulled him into a tight hug.  He lifted the kid's feet off the ground to muffled protests of "Drrrn!  Grrroff!" but decided not to make his little brother suffocate, putting him back down where he only came up to Dean's shoulder.  He missed that little midget.

Sam punched him in the arm and Dean ruffled that stupidly long hair, but Jim came over before it escalated any further and derided with a chuckle, "No scuffling on the train platform, that can wait 'til you get home, boys."

"Aw, not even in the car?" Dean played at disappointment.

Grabbing his attention again, Sam chided, "Dean, you haven't even said 'hi' yet."

He gave his brother a big smile.  "Hi, Sammy."

The boy rolled his eyes dramatically and looked back at Jim to exchange a weary glance.

"Is this Sam?" a voice came from right behind him.  Dean whipped around to see that Cas had come over with both of their trunks, which was kind of amazing seeing as how heavy those things were.

"Are you Cas?" Sam asked in return before Dean could get a word in, brain still held up on Cas' strength.

Cas' face spread with a huge smile and he held out his hand to the kid, saying, "Yes, it is good to finally meet you."

"You too!  Is it true you caught the snitch in three minutes?" Sam queried while he vigorously shook the hand that was given.

"Yes, although it was a bit of a 'fluke' as Dean calls them," he admitted, though still smiling broadly.

"That is so cool.  Also, you're taking Arithmancy, right?  How is that?  It sounds like a really interesting subject--"

"Hey motor-mouth, you plan to stay on the platform forever?"  Dean took his trunk from Cas and heaved it onto an empty luggage cart that Jim had brought over.  "C'mon!"

They slid Cas' trunk on top of Dean's for the sake of convenience while they moved out of the way to the nearest wall and waited for Mr. Singer to work his way off the train.  Sam was literally on his toes to look at all the faces in the crowd.

"You have talked about me quite a bit, haven't you?" Cas asked him aside.

"Ah, maybe," he half-assented, smirking a little.

They reached the empty spot and started craning their necks for signs of that huge, gray, pointed hat, but it didn't appear.  Sam reverted to asking Cas incessant questions about Hogwarts, the Hufflepuff common room, the Great Hall, the Ancient Runes professor, and Cas patiently answered every one.

Meanwhile, Jim tapped Dean on the shoulder, holding his arms out for a greeting hug of his own when Dean turned around.  "Welcome back, Dean," he pronounced as he gave him a fatherly pat on the back.  They parted and Dean looked up as Jim inquired, "How was your year?"

"It was decent," he shrugged, "but got a lot better when Cas and I started hangin' out."

"Good, good.  Making new friends is always good," he commended with a warm smile.

Dean heard Jo's voice shout from the midst of the milling crowd, "Hey, Dean!  You better not leave without saying goodbye!"

"As is keeping old ones," Jim advised, shooing him toward her.

He swam through a few yards of people and luggage to where she was standing with her hovering mother and replied, sounding hurt, "What makes you think I'd do that?"

"You'd do what?  Surrender to the mandroids?" Ron butted in.

"Absolutely not!" Dean protested.

Jo punched him in the arm, the same one Sam punched not five minutes ago.  "You're such an idiot, go have a good summer."

Ron added, "Yeah, but don't have too much fun without us!"

"I won't, not with Sam drivin' me up the wall," Dean reassured them.  He waved his goodbyes so Ron and Jo could leave with their respective parents, and then returned to Jim, Cas, and Sam... who was  _still_  going.  Jesus, that kid could talk the ears off of anybody.

At the same time, another man approached looking like a trucker in denim and a baseball cap.  Sure, the students had changed back into muggle clothes on the train and the remainder of the throng had attempted to fit in with the rest of the Denver station, but this guy didn't even fit in  _here_.  And  _holy hell, is that Professor Singer?_

"Hey, Castiel," he spoke to get his son's attention.

Dean didn't really believe it was the right guy until Cas turned around and smiled back up at him, saying, "Hello, father."

Eyes bugging out, Dean managed, "Professor Singer?"

"Hi, Dean," he nodded in a weird, consciously-polite way.

That's when Dean noticed the exchange of eye contact between Singer and Jim, like there was something unspoken going on in the adult world that made this all a little bit awkward.  He ignored it in favor of blurting out, "I didn't recognize you without your hat."

"I ain't goin' out there with that thing on my head like some kinda beacon!" Singer jested, "Hey muggles, I'm a wizard, bet you didn't think us folk were real."

"Uh, but now you look like a trucker," Dean indicated tactlessly.

"Your point?"

Dean didn't exactly have one, and Cas snickered at him while he wrestled with it.

"This must be Sam," Singer turned to the boy.

He blinked, got his mind back in gear and remembered to say, "Oh yeah, hey Sam, meet Professor Singer."

The two shook hands and the man addressed, "School's out, you boys can call me Bobby.  Feels strange to be called 'Professor' on break."

Sam and Dean nodded, understanding, though Dean's eyes were near-bulging again.

"Hi, Bobby," the boys' guardian joined in.

"Jim," he nodded back.  "Good ta see ya."

"Likewise."

"You two know each other?" Dean questioned.

"Yeah.  Your dad... well, everybody kinda just knows everybody," Bobby explained.  "You'll get used to it."

"It's like all the grown-ups had a party without us, jeez," he carped.

Rolling his eyes, Bobby dismayed, "Darn, that was our best-kept secret."

The conversation paused and Jim looked around the station, observing, "Looks like the platform is clearing out a bit."

"Huh, we're almost the last ones here," Bobby also noticed.

"Yeah, it's about time to go.  You ready, Dean?"

He nodded at Jim, then the group all steered toward the exit.  They didn't talk much on the way to the parking lot in case they were overheard, since they already looked funny enough with their large trunks and Cas' snowy owl in a cage under his arm. Bobby didn't stick out like a sore thumb quite so much in the general station, but as a group they were still plenty awkward.

Once outside, they stopped, realizing their separate ways split off here.  Dean turned to Cas to say goodbye and instead was attacked by arms flinging around him then squeezing him to death.  Dean patted Cas on the back in an attempt to make the hug look a bit more manly, but there really was no hope for that, especially the way Sam was snickering at him.

"You hug like a girl, Cas."

"Huh?"

Dean patted him on the shoulder and pulled back, shaking his head with a smirk.  "Nothin'.  See you soon."

"See you soon," he repeated, nodding slowly.

They pushed their trunk-laden carts in opposite directions across the parking lot, glancing back before disappearing behind lines of cars.

~~~

"Father?"

"Yeah, Castiel?"

"Um, would it be possible to... visit Dean this summer?"

Bobby frowned.  "Did he invite you?"

"Yes."

They entered a dark alley that was being quite well-ignored by all the passing muggles and walked to the very end of it, meanwhile Bobby seemed lost in thought.  "It's, ah... it's up to his dad," he finally replied.  "John may not...  He keeps a pretty close eye on those boys."

Castiel chewed on his lip, looking up at his father undoing the disillusionment charm on his Hippogriff, Steve, whom he had hidden in the alley near the station, then levitating Cas' trunk and his own suitcase into an invisible rack over Steve's rump.  "But would you allow it?  If he gave permission, could I go?"

Bobby scratched his head and sighed, "I think it'd take a miracle to convince John Winchester of anything, but... yeah."

Hope lit up Castiel's face and he gave his father a thankful hug which was lovingly returned, even though many more mixed feelings churned in Bobby's expression.  He was happy his son had found such a close friend, but did it have to be Dean Winchester?


	6. Chapter 6

  _Dear Dean,_

_I hope this letter reaches you, my father and I are not entirely familiar with the U.S. Postal Service._

_I write with good news!  He has allowed me to visit!  He says he doubts your father will grant permission, but that if he does, he will allow me to stay for a week.  Is that an appropriate amount of time?  I sincerely hope your father is as gracious, but I am sure he will understand.  It would be wonderful to spend a week with you and your brother, and perhaps you will be able to show me your 'movies.'_

_Speaking of your brother, would you say 'hello' to Sam for me?  I hope he is well.  Would you also inform him that I have purchased the J. R. R. Tolkien books which he enthusiastically suggested?  I am excited to read them, as he has told me they are quite the adventure._

_With luck, I shall see you soon, Dean._

_Sincerely,_

_Castiel Singer_

Dean laughed at the formality of Cas' writing, and even more at the fact that there were about two dollars' worth of stamps on the envelope.  They'd decided muggle mail was the best way to go, avoiding the Bureau's eyes and laying low.  They still had to be careful what they said and avoid mentioning magic in their letters, just in case some postal worker accidentally ripped one open, or chance worked against them one way or another as it so often did.

Sam was practically climbing over Dean's shoulders to see the letter, and was near knocking over the entire kitchen table with his flailing when Dean finally finished reading and handed it over.  The boy's eyes scanned quickly and Dean picked up his fork again, going at his hash browns with fervor.

"This is a letter from your friend, Castiel?" Jim sought out of curiosity, cutting a piece of sausage.

Mouth full, Dean confirmed, "Yeah, it'sh about if he ca' vishit thi' shummer."  He swallowed.  "Can he?  Like, could he come over for a week or so?"

"That all depends on--"

"Sweet, he got the books!" Sam interrupted.  "He's gonna love 'em, seriously, it's the coolest story ever and there's all kinds of historical and biblical allegories and symbolism that--"

"I never shoulda introduced you two nerds, I can tell this ain't gonna end well," Dean ragged.  He ruffled Sam's hair with the hand that wasn't still shoveling breakfast into the garbage chute that was his mouth.  Before long he was having his fourth biscuit and third serving of bacon - who could blame him?  He was a fourteen-year-old boy!

He later reread the letter without the distraction of food and his brother, and considered the planning he'd need to do to make this visit work.  If he needed his dad's permission, it was going to take  _ages_ , and probably wouldn't happen at all. This was the kind of thing Dad would  _never_  allow.

So... he needed a different plan.  He needed to make some  _really_  convincing evidence that permission was granted, without ever asking for it.

~~~

Okay, so it was risky, lying to pretty much everyone except Sam.  But there was no way in Hell his dad would let any of this happen, so there was no point in even asking, right?  Easier to ask forgiveness than permission.  And this way there was a far greater chance of Cas actually being able to visit, whereas attempting to contact his dad  _and_  convince him to bend his own rules?  Not at all likely.

It was  _much_  easier to forge a reply (to an originally fake request) that contained enough strict conditions and guidelines to convince anyone that John had written it himself.  At first, the conditions had been even more detailed and restricting, until Dean realized he would have to follow his own fake rules in order to play at his own game.  In the end he struck a balance: confining them all to the church property, but not giving them bedtime hours; no magic, obviously, but allowing broomsticks as long as they flew low.  It wouldn’t be _that_ bad, and he realized that the edicts were probably for the best - as much as Dean resented them - so the three of them didn't do something reckless and stupid.

Anyway, it was hard to have regrets when Cas showed up on the back doorstep with a duffel bag and a huge smile.

"Hello, Dean."

"Cas!" he exclaimed in reply, rushing forward through the door and tackling him.  Cas' bag was dropped on the porch while the boys scuffled on the lawn, ending up with Dean holding Cas in a headlock and rubbing his hair like mad.  Apparently this was their new greeting.

Bobby climbed off the now-visible Hippogriff and raised an eyebrow.  "Is this some teenage thing?  Is it a new fad to say 'hello' with your elbows?"

Dean let Cas go and the boy stood up with the messiest head of hair he'd ever seen, crazy even for Cas.  They grinned sheepishly at Bobby, then turned inward and Dean gave him one last pat on the crown.  "Hi, Cas," he said at last.

Sam came running out and first thing wrapped his arms around Cas' waist to drag him back down into the grass.  Dean decided what the hell, and made it a dog pile.  Sam groaned and Cas turned his head to give Dean an unappreciative eye, but then Bobby picked up Cas' duffel and set it on Dean's back like a Christmas tree topper.  It was only filled with clothes and wasn't very heavy, but Sam made a big deal complaining about it.  Then Cas pulled his elbows in and pushed upward against Sam and Dean, lifting both their bodies' weight off the ground, which  _damn_.  Dean was pretty sure Cas didn't work out, but maybe shoveling crap and lifting hay bales all day counted for something.  Dean bucked the bag off and rolled off the pile, Sam doing likewise on Cas' other side before the boy could strain himself actually lifting them both on his back.

"They do have a strange way of greeting each other," Jim noted.

The boys were sprawled on their backs except for Cas who was still on his stomach, limbs splayed out and overlapped by the others'.  "It is entirely Dean's fault," Cas grumbled.

"You know you love it, Cas," Dean grinned as he sat up and slapped Cas' ass.

The boy's eyes shot open and he yelped and scrambled to spin around and crab-walk out of reach, face beet-red.  Dean cracked up and Sam rolled his eyes like this happened all too often.

Jim leaned against the door frame and suggested, "Why don't you show Cas where he'll be sleeping?"

Dean leaped to action, picking up the duffel, too.  "C'mon, Cas!  Let's give you the grand tour!"

~~~

Bobby watched the youngest run in after them, took off his hat to scratch the back of his head, and sighed, "Boys will be boys."

"I'm not sure I've ever heard a truer statement," Jim agreed.

There really hadn't been any quarrel between the two men whatsoever, but with John Winchester, everything was a bit delicate.  One shouting match with him and all his other friends get touchy (or simply nervous because siding against John never ends well).  And, well, 'shouting match' was an understatement.

"Startin' to wonder how cruel it is to leave you with all three of them for a week," he mused, "Maybe I should trade one?"

Jim chuckled, "Oh, I'm sure they'll agree to that."

Bobby laughed with him, secretly glad John hadn't been around in a while, that his presence couldn't be felt.  Things were so much more amiable without him.  "I do owe you one, though.  Next time they want a get-together they're welcome to have it at my house, an' that way you don't have three destructive little cornish pixies drivin' you up the wall every time they feel like it."

"Hah, it might end up being a trade-off after all," he cracked.  Then nodding, he acknowledged, "Thanks, Bobby, they're really happy to have Cas over.  And of course it doesn't happen very often, so thank you for... everything."

"Yeah, no problem, Jim," Bobby conceded.  He kind of wanted to add something about the boys' happiness meaning everything to him, but there wasn't a single way to phrase that which wasn't sappy as hell.  It probably sounded better in his head anyway.

Jim gave a small, courteous wave.  "See you back on Saturday, then."

Steve knew the cue and started to shift his front claws in anticipation, so Bobby turned around and hopped up onto his back, ready to fly home. "See you Saturday," he called and took off.

~~~

"It's dinnertime, boys!" Jim called across the house.

"Ooh, I wonder what's for dinner!" Sam hopped up off Dean's bed, but Dean was too wrapped up in showing Cas his rock and roll tape collection to be pulled away just yet.  "Dean.  Cas.  Guys, you can come back to that later!"

Dean bemoaned, "Wait, but I haven't gotten to any of my Led Zeppelin albums yet!"

“You have all week!”

Dean pouted and followed Sam to the kitchen, running a list of the best songs through his head so he could play them all for Cas.  It felt like they could do a million things in a week, but at the same time, it felt too short.  And to think, they were still only in day one.

After they ate their baked homemade mac n’ cheese, Dean sat Cas down on the couch and turned on the Sega.  Cas stared with wonder at the screen as the title menu for Space Invaders came into view and was utterly confused when Dean handed him the second controller.  Meanwhile, Dean’s grin never left his face.

“This is the best game ever.  It’s the only one I’ve got, but you’ll see, it’s freakin’ awesome.”

“This is a game?” he seemed incredulous, dangling the controller by the wire connecting it to the game system.  “How do you play?”

Dean laughed, “Well, first you gotta hold the controller like this.”  He demonstrated the proper grip, then pointed to each of the buttons.  “This one is to shoot, this knob lets you move back and forth, and this takes you to the menu.”

“Shoot what?” Cas squeaked, turning the thing over in his hands trying to find where the possibly dangerous magic would come out.

“Nothing comes out of there, Cas,” he reassured, still laughing.  “It all happens on the screen, see?  This wire connects that to the box, and the box is connected to the screen, so when you push something, the screen does something.  I’m not that great at explaining, how about I show you?”

Cas looked wary, but nodded all the same.  Dean turned on practice mode and started playing, glancing over as often as he could to gauge Cas’ understanding.

“What is that shape at the bottom that keeps moving?”

“That’s me.  My spaceship.”

“You’re inside it?  Does that mean we all are?”

Dean slapped a palm to his face.  “No, that’s just the ship I control in the game.  It’s me... figuratively.”

“Oh.  And what are all the dots coming out of it?”

“They’re plasma bolts that I’m shooting at the invaders.  I have to stop them from taking over the Earth.”

“So you’re destroying them?  Shouldn’t you try to speak to them first?  What if they have no intention of harming you?”

Rolling his eyes, he explained, “They’re _invaders_ , of course they wanna harm us.  This is just how the game works, alright?  Here, you give it a try.”

He traded controllers with Cas, who flinched and then froze with the thing in his hands, staring at the ship as it flashed red from the sudden onslaught of alien fire.  “What just happened?”

“You died.”  At Cas’ shocked, wide eyes, he amended, “The ship died.  You gotta avoid the attacks from the other ships, see?  It helps that they shoot in patterns, so you don’t have to keep guessing.”

Cas frowned and looked back at the TV just as practice mode started over.  He still did nothing with his hands, so Dean reached over and pressed his own hands on top of Cas’, moving his left thumb side-to-side while pushing the A button on the right.  Cas jerked his head to look right at Dean, who was biting his tongue and concentrating on the game, and gulped.

Dean could hear it, being mere inches away, and teased, “Scared of the aliens, Cas?”

“No,” he squeaked.

“Think you got it?”

“Um...”

“Ready or not,” Dean said as he let go, leaving Cas to stand on his own.

The kid wasn’t too shabby once he got the hang of it.  He died several times first, but who doesn’t?  When he finally stopped shaking and turning his knuckles white, Dean turned on two-player mode, which got Cas interested in the story rather quickly.  He’d argue the morality of the missions they were given, but mow down alien ships with gusto all the same - he was a bit of a button masher.

Eventually, it got pretty late and Jim insisted that they get some sleep.  Dean thought it likely that they’d stay up all night anyway, but set up sleeping bags and pillows on his bedroom floor all the same. 

Once they were all nice and curled up, Dean put in a mixtape of the Beatles to listen to quietly as they drifted off, thinking it’d probably be Cas’ style.  Soon, Cas was humming along to the choruses as he caught on to each song, and Dean grinned to himself.

~~~

“I was wondering if you two would _ever_ get out of bed,” Sam proclaimed the next morning as the two sleepy-eyed boys walked into the dining room.

“Not everyone wakes up insanely early, you weirdo,” Dean shot back, yawning.

There was a very definite smell of bacon, and Dean suddenly perked up.

“Yes, Dean, there’s bacon,” Sam sighed, turning a page of the book he had propped up on the table beside a glass of orange juice.

Dean went into the kitchen and picked himself a plate before Jim could finish saying, “You know breakfast isn’t ready yet, don’t you?”

He set it down and sighed, “Alright.  When will it be?”

“Just a couple minutes,” Jim chuckled.

Dean went back into the dining room and slumped into the chair next to Sam’s, Cas taking Dean’s other side and asking, “What should we do today?”

“I was thinking Quidditch,” Dean answered, then turned to Sam, “Whaddaya say, you still wanna see if you can beat us?”

“Two against one?  That’s not fair!”

Cas concurred, “How would you balance a game with three players?”

“Well, I guess the only way to make it even is me against both of you,” he shrugged.

Mischief played across Sam’s face and he grinned at Cas.  “Let’s take him down.”

Much to Dean’s dismay, those two nerds beat the confidence right out of him after breakfast.  When they were done out-scoring him, they tackled him to the ground and made another dog-pile, this time with Dean buried at the bottom.

They found ways all throughout the week to torment Dean with a vengeance, whether it was ‘spilling’ the cake batter all over him, or ‘accidentally’ dropping the popcorn in his lap, or locking him in the closet when it was time for dessert.  Dean never admitted that he didn’t mind, though he did get plenty of payback, particularly when he pulled them in for a group hug right after the cake batter incident.

They played more Space Invaders, Sam explaining how the Sega Master System actually worked, which didn’t make much sense to either Dean or Cas.  They also watched the _Star Wars_ trilogy, the _Indiana Jones_ trilogy, and, with much convincing from Dean, _The Invasion of the Body Snatchers._

Jim didn’t seem to mind having to rent all seven of these movies, and he even watched them all with them.  Cas, on the other hand, shrieked and grabbed Dean’s arm whenever things got exciting or scary, and actually cried when Han Solo was frozen in carbonite.  He hid his face in a pillow for most of _Temple of Doom_.

Listening to Dean’s music was clearly Cas’ favorite activity, and they would just lie on the floor doing their summer homework (of course Cas convinced Dean to do it) while the Doors sang about the big Texas beat.

It was over far too soon.


	7. Chapter 7

That felt like the shortest week of Dean’s life, and he now filled the quiet of the house with AC DC and single-player Space Invaders, even though Sam pointed out that he was better than Cas at that game anyway.

"Quit being so mopey," he complained, "You're acting like a lovesick girl or something."

"I am not!" Dean argued, but decided against chasing after Sam and wrestling with him for calling him a girl because he was about to make a new high score.  Anyway, he wasn't being mopey, let alone for  _Cas_.  That would just be ridiculous.   _Maybe_  he was just tired of waiting for school to start back up.

What the fuck, when did Dean start liking school that much?  Must have been Cas' fault.  That nerd.  Cute nerd, though.

Wait, what?!  Dean got his spaceship blown up and thereby screwed his chances at a high score, so he threw the controller down on the couch beside him and ran his fingers through his hair.  He didn't mean cute like  _that_  cute, but like a small puppy is cute, or his little brother when he's not being a total life-ruiner.  Cas was a  _guy_ , Dean didn't have an opinion one way or another whether he was, like,  _cute_.  Ew.

He shook his head and made his way into the kitchen to grab himself a taquito or three from the freezer, but stopped in his tracks when things were definitely not as they should be.  Namely, some blond chick was just inside the door from the back porch and had her wand pointed at Jim who was clenching at his throat and making no sound at all which was probably a sign that  _oh shit, I should do something._

She spotted Dean instantly and when she turned her face toward him, he saw that her eyes were completely black, and this just got a whole lot worse.

"Hi,  _Dean_ , where's your daddy?  Mind telling me before I slit his throat?"

Frozen on the spot, looking back and forth between her and Jim, he couldn't decide what to do.  This wasn't supposed to ever happen because they were supposed to be safe here and the only way for this to make sense was--  _what if something happened to Dad??_

But she was asking him where he was, and he didn't know, and he had to save Jim, and he could do nothing but swallow nervously and stay quiet and stare like a deer in the headlights.

Padding of feet on the carpet came from behind and Dean turned to see Sammy walking across the living room from the hall, probably wondering about the unfamiliar voice that just pierced through the house.

"No, Sammy!  Stay back!" Dean cried, hands out to stop him.  Number one rule: Sammy couldn't get hurt, and Dean had to do everything in his power to prevent it.  Right about now, he thought he was going to be sick.

"Why so protective, Dean?  Big brother have daddy issues?" the woman teased, whipping him back around to face her with a flick of her wand, releasing Jim for just a second and allowing him to take a gasp of air before taking hold of him again.

"Let him go!"

"Why should I?  Neither of you are telling me anything, so I should just kill him.  There's not really any other way you can stop me, is there?"

"I don't know where my dad is!  Stop it!  Let him go!"  A hot tear streaked down his cheek.  This couldn't be happening, not so suddenly, not without Dad here.

She cracked a smile and tilted her head of short, blond hair.  "Oh, I don't think so.  What will it take to make you talk, kid?  Should I test you, Dean?  How about I just..."  Her wrist tweaked ever so slightly and created a thin red line on Jim's neck, not a deep or long cut, but just far enough under the skin to make one drop of blood skitter down from it.

Dean's heart was pounding, his mind racing.  No, no, no, this was all wrong and it couldn't be happening and he wasn't ready for this level of crap.  He swallowed the lump of bile in this throat, the one threatening to make him actually sick, and glanced back again to make sure Sammy was staying back, that he was safe.

A second Demon Guard was holding Sam with a hand over his mouth and a knife against his collarbone and Dean's heart raced even faster, faster than should have been physically possible.  He could no longer  _breathe_  and more tears spilled down his cheeks because he couldn't give these sons of bitches what they wanted even though he  _would_  have right that second just to save Sammy, to stop them from bleeding him and  _killing_  him,  _oh God no_.  He couldn't picture Sam dead.  Couldn't even imagine it.  Life would end, right then and there.

"Still speechless?  Wow, you're kind of useless," she jeered.  "What a shame, I  _was_  going to be merciful."  With a slice of her hand, Jim's eyes went wide and his jaw went limp and his whole head bent forward grotesquely as blood gushed from the slash all the way across his neck.  Horrible choking sounds spluttered out of his mouth along with more blood, and Dean felt like choking, too, what with the tears pouring freely now.  Some kind of pitiful sob ripped out of his throat and he couldn't look away from Jim, or what  _was_  Jim.   _Oh God, oh God, oh God NO THIS HAS TO STOP._

No coherent sound would come out, and Dean's mouth opened and closed as he tried to string words together with "STOP" in there somewhere.  He could barely even see, what with salty water flooding his eyes and coating them and giving the world that awful sheen that at least had the forgiving factor of making the blood and the glazed look in Jim's eyes harder to focus.

Both the demons were laughing at him, she was pointing her wand at him, and that was when the front door slammed open.  Dean pivoted to see what it was, but barely into his turn, an invisible force threw him against the open door frame and to the ground where everything gradually got dark until it faded and was gone.

~~~

There was a ringing in his ears, more intense than he'd ever heard, and his father's face didn't quite come into focus.  There was a hand on his back, lifting him up into big arms, but the ringing and the pounding in his head got significantly worse when he was raised off the floor completely.  Thankfully, it lessened again and he felt the familiar couch under him.  A warm, worn hand was brushing his forehead, and that helped too, to ease the throbbing.  He blinked a few times.

It was definitely his dad there.  Sam was right beside him, kneeling by the couch and looking over Dean.

He could still feel the wetness of tears on his face, and they came rushing back as quickly as he'd gone out.  Everything behind his eyes and between his ears felt like imploding when he cried, but he couldn't stop the onrush, and it looked like John and Sam's eyes were red, too.  He curled up, nothing left to do, and soon there were arms encircling him.

He'd failed.  Jim was dead.  Something horrible had happened and he hadn't been able to stop it at all.

A few minutes later he opened his eyes again because his father's voice was urging him to sit up and drink some water.  Sitting up made his head spin, but water made it better.  Lying back down made his head spin, too, but made it stop quicker.  He wasn't keeping track of time at all, but he heard the front door open and close a few times, and then a much smaller hand was gripping his shoulder and shaking it lightly.

"The car's packed, we gotta go," Sam whispered gently.

Dean gave him a slow nod and sat up.  It wasn't nearly as bad anymore, headache still pounding away but at least he wasn't dizzy and he could breathe, and he let Sammy take his hand and lead him outside to his dad's sleek, black Impala.  It was Dean's favorite car.  It hummed, ready to take the road.

They didn't lock the door behind them.  There didn't seem to be a point.

~~~

In the car, Sam told him that after Dad rushed in, there had been a wand fight between him and the Demons before the two of them disapparated.  The kid seemed really shaken up so Dean wrapped an arm around him and let his head rest on Dean's shoulder for the first couple hours.  They fell asleep after a while, lulled by the thrum of the engine speeding down a long, straight, unlit country road.

Dean woke when the car was pulled into a gas station and he prodded his brother, "Sam, wake up, we're stopped.  Do you want a snack or anything?"

His bleary eyes opened and he mumbled, "Can I have some water?"

"Sure thing, Sammy."  Dean climbed out his side and turned to face the back of the car where John was filling up the fuel tank, calling, "Dad, can I go in and get some water for Sammy?"

"No, stay in the car," he ordered calmly.  "I'll go in, is there anything you want?"

"Could I have a Snickers?"

"Sure thing, Dean.  Just stay put."  The man returned the nozzle to its place, closed the lid on the tank and went inside, constantly scanning the surroundings like he was paranoid.  Dean was kinda thinking he was.

He sighed exasperatedly as he sat back down and shut the door.  "Don't get what's so dangerous about a gas station."

"Dad seems pretty freaked," Sam countered, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, "I don't think he even wants us to be seen, not after tonight."

"What do you mean, 'after tonight?'  We had a run-in, that kinda stuff just happens, we--"

"Dean, are you completely ignoring what happened to Ji--"

"Shut up, Sam!" he raised his voice.  In the car it bounced back to his own ears too loudly and sounded harsher than he had intended by far, and the look of concern on Sam's face only made it worse.  "I'm not ignoring... Let's just not talk about it, okay?  We're gonna be fine.  We've got Dad, we're safe."

Sam gave him a suspicious eye, but didn't press that particularly upsetting matter.  Dean was grateful, he didn't want to start crying again or something stupid.  "You can't deny, though, Dad's really worried.  They got to the house, got through all of Dad's protections somehow... that's kind of a big deal."

"They shouldn't've even known where we were.  Do you think someone helped them?" he wondered aloud.

"Well... Cas and Bobby were the last people to--"

"It wasn't them!" he defended, regretting the thought that led to the accusation.

Sam put his hands up in surrender, easing, "Sorry, I wasn't saying it was them.  I trust them just as much as you do.  It's just... what if someone got to them, too?"

"They wouldn't just give up our address like--"

"I  _know_ , that's why I'm worried about them a little."

"Wait, you're not saying... they could be..."  The image of Cas' throat slit just like Jim's flashed through his mind and he gulped, willing it away.   _No, that can't be, they have to be okay,_  he reassured himself.

"We don't know," Sam finished just as John opened the driver door and lowered himself into the car, starting the engine back up.

Dean's heart was racing again, and he slammed his hands on top of the front bench seat before the car was put in drive, saying breathlessly, "Dad, we have to go to Sioux Falls!"

"What?  Why, Dean, what are you talking about?" he demanded.

"It's... we..." he stumbled.  If Dad and Bobby got to talk, everyone would find out that Dean lied so Cas could come over, and this was all his fault.  "Cas is there.  We just need to make sure he's okay."

"Who's Cas?"

"Dean's friend who ca--"

"Castiel Singer, he goes to Hogwarts," Dean talked over Sam, giving him a warning look.   _Dad can't find out about that yet._

Sam made a bitch face and John practically exploded, " _Singer?!_   Since when are you friends with Bobby Singer's boy?  And why do you care so much you want to drive straight over and check on him?  What's he got to do with this?"

"Nothing, sorry, it's nothing," he recoiled.

"It's  _something_ , Dean, or you wouldn't have brought it up."

"I--I thought he might be in trouble 'cause he was with me when there was that Demon near Hogwarts," he explained, feeling like it was a lame excuse.   _That's because it is._   "It doesn't make any sense, I shouldn't be worried about him, forget about it."

John's hands white-knuckled on the wheel as his jaw worked back and forth.  "It isn't safe there anymore.  You can't go back to school."

If Dean thought the clenching in his chest and the shout rising in his throat were painful, it was nothing compared to Sam's look of utter shock, followed by unbridled anger.  "You mean I'm  _NEVER_  gonna get to go to Hogwarts?!  After waiting THREE years while DEAN got to go to school, I'm never even gonna SEE the place???  YOU CAN'T--"

"YES I CAN!" John yelled back.  "This isn't your choice, Sam!  I need to keep you and Dean safe,  _no matter what_.  And if keeping you both out of school is the way to do it, then goddammit I will!"

Dean's voice shrank as he started, "But what about--"

"WE'RE DONE."

What little will he had to speak was gone, the argument was over.  No more Hogwarts, no more Cas, no more home.

John pulled away from the pump then remembered to toss a couple water bottles and a 3 Musketeers into the backseat.  Dean had asked for a Snickers, but he didn't say anything.

~~~

Two days later, holed up in a mildew-stained motel room, there was a tapping sound on the window much sharper than the continuous patter of the pouring rain.  This summer lightning storm had been crackling all day, ready to let loose, and it finally started just a few hours ago.  But the rapping on the window became insistent enough that Sam, who was closest, got up and opened the curtain to see what it was.

Curious, Dean's eyes followed.  There was a drenched owl perched on the windowsill outside, holding a letter that, unlike the bird, appeared to be unaffected by the flood.  Dean could see Sam's eyes widen in his reflection, then the boy cracked the window open to let the animal in.

It was damn lucky that their dad was in the bathroom just then, or the thing would have never been allowed inside.  " _Sam_ ," Dean hissed in warning, hoping to convey that very thought.

His brother looked over, pressed his lips together stubbornly, shook his head, then turned back toward the window to hold his arm out as a perch.  Taking it, the owl dripped water all over the floor, then everywhere else when it shook out all its feathers in one, big flurry.  Sam was pretty much soaked.

He took the letter and stared at it for way too long.

"What is it?" Dean whispered, getting off the bed and approaching.

Sam remained silent, holding it out for Dean to see instead.

_Mr. Samuel Winchester_

_Dingy Motel, Room 106_

_Davis, OK_

John chose just that moment to come back out, stopping in his tracks as soon as he took in the changes since last he saw the room.  Dean watched the fury bubbling up, could see it in his face when it burst into, "GET THAT BIRD OUT OF HERE!"

Sam jumped and the intelligent creature flew back out of its own accord.  Dean rushed to close the window behind it and shut the curtain, hoping to calm at least  _some_  of the rage, slow down the fan a little before the shit went flying.

"Give me that," the man ordered, holding out his hand for the letter.

Sam's fingers gripped it tighter.  He took a deep breath, both hushed and tenacious as he held steadfast, "It's mine.  Can I at least keep it?"

" _No_ , Sam.  Give it to me."

That kid was obstinate, he didn't even move.

"NOW!"

Sam flinched, his first sign of letting up.  His dad took a step forward and Sam screwed up his face before dropping the parchment on the floor and dashing to the bathroom himself, slamming the door behind him.

Dean waited still by the window, biting back every single word he wanted to say.  John bent down to pick up the object of so much conflict, then pulled out his wand and incinerated it.

~~~

Sam wouldn't speak at all, not to anyone.  They spent just as many hours driving as they did in crappy motels and diners, and the boy would cross his arms and stare out the window, no matter where they were.  It broke Dean's heart to see his little brother's dreams shattered just like that, but there was nothing he could do.

The prospect of never going back was freakin' depressing.  He'd never get to try out for Quidditch, show Sam the Base - hell, show Sam the entire castle - and he'd probably never see Cas again.  That would seriously suck.

Without Sam to talk to, Dean was just as gloomy.  Their dad didn't say much either, probably knowing all the tension was his fault because of his new ruling about school, like he felt guilty or something.  The awkward silence just stretched on, making it the worst family road trip imaginable.  Grumpiness and moodiness abounded, and eventually it was so strained, Dean practically  _wanted_ another fight.

He should have remembered to be careful what he wished for.

Getting ready for the third night's sleep somewhere in New Mexico, John finally confronted Dean about something that had apparently been bothering him all this time.  It started just as strained as the silence was, hesitating, "So Dean, you're friends with Bobby Singer's son?"

Why was that weird enough to question?  These adults had way too many secrets.  "Uh... yeah," he answered.

"How come I didn't know about it?"

"Well, it... didn't seem all... that... important," he replied haltingly.  Honestly, it wasn't the kind of thing you'd just start a conversation with, like, 'Hey, let me tell you about who my friends currently are and all the details about my life at school when you aren't even around.'  That was most of what made this awkward as hell.

"Sorry for askin'," the man snapped a little unnecessarily.  "Wouldn't hurt to talk about it now, would it?"

"Cas and I started practicing Quidditch together, and then we started hanging out, and I don't get what the big deal is."

"Well, you sure seem to care a lot, 'cause before you were saying we should drive straight to Bobby's place and see them, so I'm asking  _you_  what the big deal is!"

"It's not--"

Sam came out of the bathroom and they froze mid-argument, the room temperature shifting several degrees lower.

It was over then, but it wasn't.

Next time it was Sam who confronted him, at a diner when their dad got up to pay the check.  "Dean, are you gonna tell him?"

"Tell him what?" he asked, trying to act stupid.

Sam rolled his eyes.  "About Cas coming over.  He's gonna find out sooner or later."

"Later," Dean gritted out, ending that as succinctly as possible.

The thing about shit, eventually it always goes down.

"Dean, you're hiding something, and if you don't tell me what it is in the next thirty seconds I'm gonna forever end any possibility of taking back what I said about school."

"What?!  I'm not hiding--you'd do what?" Dean cried, shocked by the sudden outburst and anxious because of the sudden time limit.

"You two have the most obvious tells I've ever seen.  I know you're keeping something secret, so just let it out and don't make this hard for me!"

Dean and Sam exchanged glances, opening and closing their mouths silently.

"Is it about Castiel Singer?"

Dean gulped.  _Dad would consider changing his mind?  It's now or never!_   "He came to visit!" he blurted out.

"He what?!"

"For a week, Cas stayed with us at Jim's.  We were just bored because of summer, so I asked him to come over, and I didn't think you'd let him so I didn't say anything, plus I didn't think I could get a hold of you unless it was an emergency."

"And Jim let this happen?!"

"Well... sort of.  He and Bobby both thought I'd talked to you."

"Son of a bitch.  That's it, I'm drivin' to Bobby's."

"Wha--huh?"

"Do you realize what could have happened?  Do you know what you risked by bringing your friend there?  The Demons are  _everywhere_ , they have eyes on  _everyone_.  You put yourself and your brother  _and_  your friend in danger!"

"I didn't mean to!  I just--"

"It doesn't matter, Dean.  You still brought this down on your whole family, even though you  _knew_  it wasn't safe."  He paused and sighed heavily. "We're going to Sioux Falls now, I guess you get what you wanted.  Let's go."

They left that motel faster than any other, getting on the nearest highway north and not stopping for anything but gas and fast food until they got to Bobby's.

It looked like it took every bit of his self-control not to kick down the door, by the way his fist was pounding on it.  Bobby opened it, looking concerned at first, but dropping all expression and going stone cold when he took in John and the sheer wrath on his face.

"John?" he tiptoed.

"Dean didn't tell me your son was visiting," he burst out first, as though he'd had it bottled in, shaking up ever since they started driving toward Sioux Falls.

Singer's jaw opened and closed and he tilted his head to glare at Dean who was hiding slightly behind his dad.  "He didn't?" Bobby emphasized, chastising Dean with a look.

"No.  And Jim's dead."

Bobby's expression got even colder.  "What the hell's going on, John?"

"Demons came a couple days after you left, slit his throat."

"The boys are alright, aren't they?" he checked.

"Yeah, they're fine.  But we need to talk."

Singer nodded seriously and agreed, "Yeah. We do."

Dean and Sam followed their father into the house, and were the first to see Cas' curious face as he came up behind them from outside, feet pounding on the front door mat.  His eyes were questioning, directed at Dean when he and his brother turned around, but then the adults followed suit and Bobby ordered, "You three go outside.  Cas, how 'bout you show 'em Buckbeak?"

"Alright," Cas complied, nodding.  His eyes settled back on Dean's, a worried glance before he turned and led them out into the yard.

"What's the matter?" he asked, as soon as they were in the side-yard, out of earshot.

The brothers exchanged pained looks.  Dean went first, "After you left, uh... a coupl'a Demons showed up and... they killed Jim."  He felt his throat close up and coughed, willing it to let him finish.  "And now our dad's saying we can't go back to Hogwarts.  Saying it isn't safe."

" _What?_ "  Cas' eyes widened with disbelief.  "Are you--"

"We're okay," Sam interrupted before one more person could ask such a stupid question.  Dean was equally tired of the question 'are you alright?' simply because it was obvious.   _We're right here, you can see us, we're uninjured.  But Jim. Isn't.  Jim's gone.  Don't ask about us.  Jim's dead and that's all that matters._

Cas took a step closer, sympathy all over his face.  "Would it be helpful to talk about what happened?"

"No," Dean spat.

The boy just nodded, like he understood.   _No, you fucking don't understand,_  Dean wanted to yell, not just at Cas but the entire world.   _No one better say they're sorry!  Don't be sorry, just go out there and kill every fucking Demon there is!_

That was what Dean wanted to do, right then.  He turned away, looked out over the pastures surrounding the Singers' house, the woods beyond that, and imagined himself strangling every last black-eyed son of a bitch to death.  That had to be his purpose, getting back at them for what they did to his family, his entire life.  To  _Sam's_  life, even worse.  The kid never even got to know their mom, now hadn't even gone to Hogwarts before he lost his chance - his life was screwed.

For some reason, Cas let the silence stretch.  Dean kept staring out while Sam took perch on a nearby fence, staring at his feet, Cas standing in between the two and watching patiently.  Dean felt those eyes boring into his shoulders, though, and forced himself to turn around even as the prickling in his nose and cheeks worsened and the liquid pooled in front of his eyes.  Crying should be allowed when you're talking - or not talking - about the death of the guy who raised you and your brother.  Jim was a father to them, he'd bought video games for Dean and Legos for Sam and made them both happy year after year while their dad swooped in and out irregularly.  Dean's eyes squeezed shut of their own accord as the tears poured out and his whole body seized.  Before he knew it, Cas' arms were around him, like last time.  A smaller arm went around his lower back and he realized Sam was hugging both of them from the side too.  After that, Dean just put his face back down on Cas' shoulder, soaking his T-shirt with salty water and shaking with ugly sobs.  It'd been almost five days and he hadn't cried again.  Now that he was, it was worse for waiting.

When it seemed to be letting up, Cas let go, just keeping one arm over Dean's shoulders to guide him around to the back of the house.  There was a wide dirt road between it and a barn, and that's where Cas took them.  He pushed one heavy-looking door open with one hand and walked up to a stall on the left, unlatching and swinging open that door as well.

Inside, there was a Hippogriff foal, sleeping on a pile of feathers, possibly its own.  That was confirmed when Cas sighed, "He's molting again."

Dean sniffed, "Is it yours?"

"Yes.  I stumbled across him in the woods in June when we returned home.  I think he must have hatched late, because he was abandoned by his mother.  He looked to be a week old, which is usually when Hippogriffs learn how to fly, but... he still has not.  I believe he just needs time."

One of its great, big yellow eyes peeked open at the sound of Cas' voice interrupting his sleep, but once it saw him it lifted its head and started clicking its beak in the air and squawking excitedly.

"Hello, Buckbeak," Cas smiled.  "You seem to want a snack.  That is not what I brought."

The creature stood up, about Cas' height, and walked up to him to nose around near his pockets, nudging him in the sides.  It squawked indignantly.

"Yes, that disappoints you, I know.  I am sorry, I don't have anything."  Cas petted the top of its eagle-like head, shaking fuzzy feathers out of his fingers as he did so.  Turning to Dean he added, "He is still losing his adolescent down."

"Never seen a baby Hippogriff before," Dean commented.  "This is weird."

The creature paused in its affections toward Cas and gave Dean a glaring eye that didn't seem baby-like in the least, and Cas put a hand on the top of his beak as though holding him back.  "Careful, Dean.  He can still bite like a fully-grown Hippogriff."

"I meant weird like awesome," he corrected warily, "Something you don't see every day.  Uh..."  He really hadn't meant anything rude in the first place, but its yellow eyes were making him nervous, which seemed to be intentional on the animal's part.

"Try bowing to him," Cas suggested.

"What?" asked Dean, who still didn't know as much about Hippogriffs as he probably should.  But it was fifth years who studied them, so who could blame him?

Buckbeak glared some more and Cas repeated, "Bow.  Step back and bend at the waist but keep eye contact..."

Dean followed the instructions as they were listed, and the creature seemed to approve of this development.

"...Good, it's working well.  I think he likes you."

"Uh... what now?"

Cas seemed as worried about this as Dean for a moment, then he answered, "I think you should wait a  _little_  longer, just... don't move."

"Um..."  Cas had a weird definition of 'working well,' but Dean froze and waited, trusting Cas not to let his pet kill him, as much as that faith was being tested.

The Hippogriff stood loftily, despite not being full-sized, and watched this all transpire with an expression that Dean could never read if he had a million years to try.  This wasn't his strongest suit, he had to admit.

Cas looked at Buckbeak expectantly, they shared a silent exchange that went way over Dean's head, then  _finally_  the Hippogriff bowed in return and Cas sighed.

Dean straightened up along with it, then it turned to Sam who genuflected faster than you could say "your turn."  This met quite a lot of approval and Buckbeak gracefully bowed back after just a moment's appreciation.

Formalities aside, it went straight back to nosing in Cas' clothes in search of anything edible.

~~~

"I can't let them go back until I find out how the Demons got through every single one of my defenses.  I just can't."

"Have you stopped to think about what it'll do to them?  You can't just drag 'em all over the country while you hunt down Demons, especially not if some a' those rumors I hear are true that you're goin' after Yellow Eyes now.  You ask me, that's not safer than Hogwarts by a long shot."

John threw his hat down on the kitchen table.  "But if I DON'T, I won't always know where they are, I won't be able to keep track of them!  I remember when we were students, we got into way too much trouble.  I  _can't_  let them--"

"They're boys!  They'll  _always_  get into trouble!  An' that trouble will be a lot worse out there in the real world.  Worst they can get into at Hogwarts is broken bones or detention and they're  _kids_.  Breakin' an arm is like a scratch, 'specially with Madam McClellan there to fix 'em up, but what I'm  _sayin'_  is they'll be safe and they'll be  _happy._   If you carry 'em off, they'll be miserable, and then they'll be downright  _lookin'_  for trouble."

"You know what happened last March.  How can you know Hogwarts is as safe as we thought?"

"It's still a helluva lot safer than anywhere else," Bobby reasoned.  "John, just listen for a second.  In your head, picture yourself trackin' down some sucker, and you've got the boys in the backseat.  Time for showdown, where do they go?  You gonna keep 'em on a leash?  Leave 'em in a car, a motel?  Where're they gonna be safest?  Then say you get hurt, or captured.  Now they're stuck, they'll probably panic, try to go after you, get  _themselves_  killed.  You gotta think about--"

"I've thought of all those things already, Bobby.  I can put protection charms on a room, and they can stay there while I--"

"While you go throwin' yourself in the fire day after day.  You're a details type a' guy, I know you can see how crazy this idea is.  Hogwarts  _is_  the safest place for them."

John let out a heavy breath.  "I already got Chuck's promise to look after them, what else can I do?"

"You can have my promise, too," Bobby offered in a way that said John did not have the option not to take it.  "They can live here, looked after by the whole Order, escorted to and from school.  It's the best option you've got.  They'll be the most guarded kids in the country, for Christ's sake."

John took a deep breath and reached into his coat for his flask, which Bobby immediately snatched out of his hands.

"Hey, what--"

"You don't need a drink, John, you gotta drive."

"Since when were you all dried out, Bobby?"

"Since I became a single father and realized I didn't want history t' repeat itself.  It's actually not that hard, you should try it sometime."

John frowned and tried not to compare his fathering skills to Bobby's, but failed.  So he took back his flask and tucked it in his pocket without so much as sniffing the contents, grumbling something about going out to check the oil.

~~~

Their dad was leaving again.

In Dean's head, this fiasco of a summer was gonna end with some kind of miracle that let them all stay on Bobby's big ranch, and together they'd defeat the Demons in one, fell swoop with no more separate ways and worried months.  He set his hopes far too high.

Jim never should have died, and none of this should have ever happened.  Dean would go back and cancel the summer invitation in an instant if he could, and boy did he wish that was possible.  Literally  _everything_  was his fault, just like his dad said.  Now he couldn't enjoy the fact that he and Sam were moving in with the Singers; the guilt outweighed it.

He stayed quiet and reserved while John put on his hat and opened the car door.  Once again, Dean never knew when he'd see him again.

Sam, on the other hand, protested, "We should stick together!  You can come to Hogwarts, help protect it, you don't have to go off on your own-- _Dad!_   C'mon!"

Dean grabbed Sam by the arm and pulled him back.  "It's okay, Sammy.  He's got a job to do."

"You boys stay safe," John said with one foot on the door frame.

"Yessir," Dean replied.

His father gave them one last nod, then got in and turned the key.  He never looked back or waved before he turned onto the long country road and disappeared from sight.


End file.
